


If You Wanna Start A Fight...You Better Throw The First Punch

by ValkyrieRaisingCain



Category: Chosen Series, Original Work
Genre: (Not on a high or terrible level but still), Blood, F/M, Language, Multi, POV First Person, Violence, multiple POVs, underground fighting au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-08-28 17:21:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 31,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8455195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValkyrieRaisingCain/pseuds/ValkyrieRaisingCain
Summary: One of the many AUs for my original characters.  Venus is a fighter for an underground fighting ring (which is illegal, by the way), and Maddox unfortunately gets sucked in.  There isn't much more to it than that.





	1. Venus: Friday Night Fights

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so this is the first AU I've ever posted for my characters. I've got a lot of them going on but I really like this one so I decided I'd post it...I guess. It's from Venus and Maddox's POVs (first person, sorry, it's just how I write for this series). If you read it, thank you so much.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And it begins...

  The crowd cheers.  I step into the light, my wrapped hands in the air.  Grin as the cheers grow louder.  That’s what you get when you’re one of the best in the ring.

  Cement barriers keep the crowd back.  Spotlights sit on their yellow stands, pointed at the ring in the middle of the barriers.  They’re blinding to look at even from the corner of my eye. 

  We switch locations every two weeks.  This abandoned underground parking place and a warehouse across town.  Some other places too from time to time, just to say safe.  Where they make moonshine’s in a totally different place.  I don’t know where that is.  I’m just one of their fighters. 

  I cross the red line painted shoddily on the floor to make a circle—there’s still blood on the floor from the previous fight.  It’s a reminder to me: step out of the ring during the match and you’re done.  Not a hair outside it.  It’s one of the three ways to lose.  The other two are either be KO’ed or fold. 

  I don’t have a single wuss out under my belt yet.

  My opponent’s already in the ring.  She’s pretty muscular.  Few years older, four inches taller.  I haven’t fought her before, but I’ve heard about her and seen her fight.  Zhi or something.  Doesn’t have a ‘stage’ name.  Eleven KO’s and only three losses, though.  Just one less loss than me.  For now, at least.

  The announcer/ref lifts a traffic cone to their lips as I step up across from Zhi.  I grin at her, but she stays the same.  No taunting from her, just a crack at intimidation.  How cute.

  “…match you’ve waited weeks for—Aviva vs. Zhi!”  There’s a roar of boos and cheers.  The ref drops the cone to their side.  “Remember the rules ladies—there aren’t any.”  They flash a smile.  “The fight begins.”

  They back to the barriers so they’re standing outside the circle.  Time for me to play.

  Zhi and I step into our stances, size each other up.  I look past my fists, trying to find my opening.  See if I can find weak spots.  I do spot one.  Doesn’t protect her left side as much as her right.  Old injury?

  I strike first.  Fist in her ribs.  It’s just a glancing blow.  It doesn’t knock her back at all or ruin her rhythm.  I get an uppercut to the jaw instead.  _Fuck—_

  A knee rams into my stomach.  All the air rushes out of me as I go sprawling right to the edge of the ring.  I groan.  So much for being one of the best…

  I roll out of the way before her foot can shatter my cheekbone.  I pop up behind her and throw an elbow in between her shoulder blades.  Could’ve just kicked her out of the ring, but I want a fair fight.  In a sense.  Illegal fighting doesn’t have rules, so I guess anything’s fair.

  Zhi’s pissed when she spins around.  She charges like a bull.  Our shoulders clip each other, but it hurts more than it normally should.  An injury from my last fight.  Dislocated the sucker and was out for a week.  It really hurt my bank account. 

  She comes back.  I get in a few shots to her weak side—her right—in the ribs and kidneys.  She boxes my ears.  The ringing makes me dizzy, almost nauseous.  I’ve gotta stay on my feet though.  I’m winning this fight.  The price is too high tonight. 

 The fist comes flying before I can duck.  Skin breaks, blood pouring in a warm stream down my face and into my eye.  Not good. 

  I keep going.  I’m not losing this fight.  Ignoring the blood stinging my eye, I send a flurry of elbows into her center and to her face.  I get an opening to her neck.  I chop.  She starts choking.  I get ahold of her and flip her over my hip.  Zhi lands hard on the ground, wheezing.

  I don’t kick her, even though it’s tempting.  I wait for her to get up.  The fury in her eyes could almost melt me with its heat.  I decide to feed the flame with a smirk. 

  “Come get it, Mama,” I taunt. 

  She snarls and charges.  I catch her with a payback uppercut.  She stumbles, closer to the edge of the ring.  Two more hits to push her back, then my foot meets her chest. 

  The ref whistles above the screaming of the crowd.  Aviva’s fifth win in a row.  I grin tiredly and let the ref raise my bloodied hand in victory.  It falls back to my side when they let go.  I don’t bask in the glory.  Just trudge out of the ring and to the stack of crates serving as the bar. 

  Grace hands me a towel for the cut above my eyebrow.  I nod to her, offering up a flirting smirk.  “How good do I look right now?”

  She laughs as she pours me a drink.  “Not the worst I’ve seen you.”   She passes the shot to me.  “It was a good fight.”

  I down the whiskey, hissing as it burns my throat.  “Thanks.  Got my winnings?”

  She grabs an envelope with _Aviva_ scrawled across the front.  “And your usual five hundred for participating.”

  I count half the money.  Over a thousand bucks tonight…damn.  I can pay my half of the rent for the next three months with this.  Almost worth the ringing still in my ears.

  “You sticking around?” Grace asks as I shove the envelope in my waistband.  She’s looking kind of hopeful.  Shouldn’t’ve slept with her that one time.  Wait…was it two?

  “Uh, no.  I actually have to get back.  My roommate’s gonna be wondering where I am,” I say.  “But I’ll see you next Friday?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be here.”

  I leave behind a disappointed Grace and go to the backroom to grab my bag.  I shrug on my t-shirt over my sports bra and bruises, my jacket over top of that.  The envelope goes into my bag for safer keeping.  Bloody wraps shoved in with them.  Time for a long walk home.  I doubt the bus is still gonna be there.

  I’m right about the bus being gone.  Unless it hasn’t come yet.  And I’m not waiting around for it.  Hell no.  Who knows how long that fucker’ll take.

  Thirty-minute walk down dark streets.  No streetlights.  Footsteps and voices.  Other sounds that put you on edge.  The hairs on my neck stand up when I hear sirens.  I walk faster.  I’m not sticking around to see if it’s cops breaking up the ring. 

  I punch in the code to get in the building.  Stomp up the creaky, terrifying stairs to the fourth floor.  I unlock the door and quietly slip in the apartment.  I don’t want to wake up Jev—

  “Vinny?  When’d you get back?”

  Shit.  I drop my bag at my feet and look up.  Jev sits at the kitchen counter, sandwich halfway to his mouth. 

  “Hey…uh, I got in just now.  The party ran a little late I guess.  I meant to call but I thought you’d be asleep.”

  “I got hungry.  And had some calls earlier I had to get to,” he says.  “I hate working with people overseas…”

  Jev gets up to turn on a light.  “No—don’t—“

  Too late.  The overhead light blinds me.  I block it with a hand and blink.  Jev curses. 

  “Jesus Venus—what happened to you?”  He walks over to me.  Concern etched all over his tired face.  He touches the cut and I hiss in pain.  “Where did you get that?”

  I push his hand away.  “It’s nothing.  I fell on some stairs on my way back.  No big deal…”

  None of my friends know about my side gig.  Just my job at the mechanic’s and the diner a couple blocks from our building.  I don’t have friends inside the ring either.  I get my money and get out.  No bonding with anybody there.

  “It’s still bleeding—that’s not nothing, Vinny,” he argues.  He grabs a towel and forces it into my hand.  I put it to the cut.  “You could have a concussion—we should get you to the hospital.”

  I shake my head, picking up my bag.  “No.  I don’t need to go.  I’ll slap a bandage on it and I’ll be fine tomorrow—“

  “We’re going to the hospital—“

  “Jev, I don’t have the money or insurance.  It’s not a big enough issue to go in for it.”

  He frowns.  “Fine.  But I’m taking you to see someone.”

  I try to fight when he grabs my arm.  “No, Jev, I don’t need to—“

  “You need stitches, Venus!  It’s that bad.”  We stop right by the door.  I’ve dug my heels in.  Jev sighs.  “Look, my boyfriend’s got a friend who’ll check you out.  Said they stitched him back up once or twice when he couldn’t get to a hospital.  Pretty good at it—Leo didn’t even have a scar.”

  I hesitate.  My head’s starting to pound.  Maybe I should…

  “Alright.  Take me—but just this once.”

  The smile on his face is pleased.  He drags me out of the apartment.  “I’ll text Leo for the address.”

  Leo answers him pretty quick for three in the morning.  Surprisingly the place is only halfway across town, on the other side of the bridge—close to where one of the other fighting rings is.  We get to a warehouse that’s been converted into apartments.  It’s a pretty quiet, discreet place.  Not a lot of foot or car traffic. 

  Jev leaves the car in the mostly empty parking lot.  I follow him up to the top floor of the building, to the end of the hall.  He pounds on the door.  No one answers.  I’m getting a little lightheaded. 

  He keeps pounding on the door until it finally flies open.  A pissed off looking guy stands in the doorway.  I’m wondering why Jev never introduced us.  Dark haired, shirtless.  Bunch of tattoos.  _Hello…_

  “Who the fuck are you?” the shirtless guy barks.  “It is three in the morning—why the hell are you here?”  Well, I can see why Leo and Jev never mentioned him now. 

  Jev moves back behind me.  “Uh…you Strange?”

  The scowl deepens.  “Yes.  Who are you?”

  “Leone Grayson?  He’s my boyfriend—a friend of yours?  He said you could help…”

  The guy’s green eyes flit to me and the towel I’m still holding to my head.  I smirk a bit, but end up wincing when the cut pulls. 

  “I can’t help you,” he says.  He grabs the door and starts to close it in our faces.  Jev stops him.

  “Wait—she can pay.”

  The man pauses.  Looks over again.  The door opens fully.  “Ok.” 

  He walks away, leaving the door wide open.  Jev claps me on the shoulder.  “I’ll wait outside.  Have fun.”

  “Jev, I don’t have money on—“

  I watch him walk away, hesitating before walking into the guy’s apartment.  Let’s hope he doesn’t turn out to be a serial killer or something. 

  It’s dark, spacious, and clean.  Hardly any furniture besides two leather couches, a TV, coffee table, and bookcases lining the inner wall.  There’s a bank of windows on the far wall, frosted.  Caked in dust too.  Not much light from the streetlamps gets in.  I freeze on the spot when the guy walks out of what I think is the bathroom. 

  “Sit on the counter.”  He turns on a light in the kitchen that’s connected to the rest of the space.  He sets the white box in his hand on the counter as I walk over.  I hoist myself onto the counter and watch him open the box.  A suture kit and a lot of bandages and other medical shit are inside.  I raise my eyebrows. 

  “So…what are you?”

  The man looks up from threading a suture needle.  “Excuse me?”

  “What are you?  A doctor?  Not a place I’d expect to see one living in,” I say.  The apartment’s nice, but not in an area where a doctor would live. 

  He goes back to getting the needle ready.  “No.” 

  I jerk away when he reaches for me.  “You’re not a doctor?  Or nurse?”

  “No.  A bartender.”

  I get off the counter.  “Oh, hell no—“

  He grabs my arm.  “Sit back down.”

  I shake him off.  “I’m not having some guy with zero medical training do shit to me.  I didn’t even want to come.”

  He bars my way, expression livid.  “You woke me up at 3:30 in the morning for help.  I am giving it to you,” he growls.  “Now sit back down and let me see the injury.”

  I don’t want to cower under his gaze, but it’s unnerving and penetrating.  Somehow I know he’ll throw me back on that counter if I don’t do it myself.  I keep my eyes locked with his as I get back up on the stone slab.  He moves my hand holding the towel away from my face and prods at the cut.  I hold back a groan. 

  “Three stitches.  Maybe four.”  He grabs a towel and wets it at the sink.  He’s not very gentle rubbing the blood away. 

  I resist the urge to slap his hand away.  “Did Jev say your name was strange or weird or something?”

  He fights to not roll his eyes at me.  “My last name is Strange—literally.”

  “Literally?  What’s your first name?  Bizarre?”

  “No.”  Strange tosses the towel aside and grabs an alcohol wipe from the box. 

  A minute passes and he doesn’t offer the first name.  The alcohol stings the cut.  “Did you want my name?  Or…” I pause, gaze drifting down.  He’s still got no shirt.  “…my number?”

  He snorts, trading the now pink wipe for the suture.  “That will not be necessary.”

  It’s hard to ignore the little stab of rejection.  Hardly anybody rejects me outright.  Shouldn’t let this guy get to my pride…

  A grey-striped cat jumps up beside me, scaring the shit out of me.  I reach out to pet it, but it spits at me, hissing and growling.  Pretty sharp teeth too. 

  “Spigot—down.”

  Swallowing a laugh, I watch the cat drop back to the floor and curl up near his bare feet.  “Spigot?”

  “That is her name.”

  The suppressed laugh bubbles up.  “Good to know you’re not the only one here with a strange name.”

  He glares at me for that comment.  Seems everything I say makes him think I’m stupid or makes him hate me.  It’s so easy to piss off the guy even though I just met him five minutes ago. 

  “Stay still and try not to talk,” he says.  “I am beginning to think it is going to be a hard concept for you to grasp.”

  “It isn’t actually, I just like to hear my own voice—“

  “Do you want me to fuck up the stitches?”

  I close my mouth.  Strange moves forward with the suture.  I make myself sit still and not lean away when the needle inches closer.  It breaks skin and I bite the inside of my cheek.  I taste blood. 

  He spots the bruising on my jaw and neck before he gets very far.  He pauses and tilts my chin up, brow furrowing.  I push his hand away but be careful not to make the suture sticking out of my face rip skin. 

  “I fell down some stairs,” I mutter, not meeting his eye. 

  He gives me a hard look.  “You don’t get these kinds of bruises from stairs.”

  It takes him a two quick minutes to finish the four little stitches.  I go into the bathroom to check out his work while he’s cleaning up his kitchen.  In the mirror I can see the even stitches closing the wound.  The black thread’s pulled tight.  If I scrunch my eyebrows it hurts.  Otherwise it’s alright. 

  I go back out in the main room.  I spot a bed behind a half open curtain, blocking off a small part from the rest of the room.  Good to see one side of the bed is going unused. 

  “How much do I owe you?”  I lean against the back of Strange’s couch and watch him scoop up his cat from the kitchen floor. 

  “Hundred.”

  My eyebrows hit my hairline.  I almost rip the stitches out doing it.  “A hundred bucks?  You’re kidding right?”  That’s almost a tenth of my earnings from tonight’s fight. 

  He dumps the cat on the couch.  I can hear it purring.  “You woke me in the middle of the night.  I am not asking any questions.  It is the least you can do,” he says. 

  “How about seventy-five and a kiss?” I ask. 

  He raises an eyebrow, in somewhere between amused and unamused.  “You believe a kiss from you is worth twenty-five dollars?”

  “Well…” I stretch the word out, bringing up a hand to run my fingers down his chest.  My touch makes him tense the second I make contact.  “…it could be more than just a kiss.  If you’re up for it.”

  A harsh laugh passes his lips.  He pushes my hand down and moves away from me.  “I don’t know you, and I rather not know you.  Pay me and leave.”

  I bite my lip, glancing at the cat nodding off on the couch cushions.  A notepad sits on the coffee table.  I walk around the couch and grab it. 

  “You’re gonna have to know me,” I start as I scribble on the pad, “because I don’t have any cash on me.  I can pay it whenever you call me to meet again.”  He turns back to me when I hold out the notepad with my number written in Sharpie on the front page.  He takes it.  “We’ll get to know each other better then—maybe go to whatever bar you work at for drinks, yeah?”

  “You can mail it,” he says.  Wow, this guy really doesn’t react to anything does he?  “Try not to fall on anymore stairs.  I don’t want to have to stitch any other part of you up.”

  Strange disappears behind the curtain.  I blow a strand of hair out of my face.  Dammit—that was a bust.  I try to pet the cat again before I leave.  The damn thing wakes up and scratches the shit out of my hand.  The cat bolts through the curtain without even rustling it.  I wrap the bottom half of my t-shirt around my fisted hand and walk out of the apartment. 

  Aside from the cat, probably the best hundred bucks I’m going to ever have to cough up.


	2. Maddox: Unfortunate Coincidences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maddox has another unfortunate run in with someone he's not too happy about...

  I walk into the precinct, an eye over my shoulder the entire time.  I doubt he has people watching me, but I can never be too careful.  Have to be cautious—I should not even be here. 

 Odd and suspicious looks come my way.  I immediately drop my hood so my face is no longer obscured.  Shoulders relax once they recognize who I am.  Without the concern of being questioned, I head to the back of the bullpen.  Settling in the chair beside her desk, I wait for Rawls to look up. 

  She does a double-take, nearly knocking her keyboard from her desk.  “Jesus—Strange, what the hell are you doing here?” she hisses.  “You know how dangerous it is for you to come back, or be seen anywhere near here—“

  “Ottar called me last night.  Said I had to come in for a briefing,” I cut in.  “They have me come in once a year if they can.  You know that.”

  “Yeah, but you’re in deep—deeper than anybody’s ever been with this.  How can Ottar risk you coming back?  Years of intel are going to go right down the drain if anybody from your life finds you here.”

  I drop my elbows on my knees, hands clasped together.  “I have a story already laid out if there is the slightest chance of anyone seeing me.  Relax, Jayna.”

  She sighs, sitting back as she eyes me.  After a moment a smile graces her lips.  “I’ve missed you since the Academy.”

  I return a slight smile.  “I missed you too, to some degree.”

  “Still can’t believe the department pretty much threw you right into an undercover op,” she mutters, turning back to her computer.  “You get all the fun while I sit here and do piles of paperwork.”

  “The last three years have not been as easy as you want to think,” I say. 

  “Sure, but they’ve still probably been more exciting than mine.”

  I snort, my eyes drifting to the floor at our feet.  “I suppose so…”  A thought enters my mind.  I reach into my pocket and take out a notepad.  Setting it on her desk I ask, “Can you run this number for me?  Tell me who it belongs to?”

  Jayna picks the pad up and reads it.  “Sure.  Who’s V, though?”

  “I don’t know exactly—a possible DV victim.”  The bruises have been on my mind since the girl left my apartment last Friday.  Three days of it thinking about it.  She might not have acted like a normal domestic violence victim would, but everyone reacts differently to those situations. 

 “Strange, you already have your case, you can’t be taking side ones.”

  “I know that.  I just…want to see if it is the case and if there is anything I can do.  Please, Jayna.”  She knows how close abuse cases are to me. 

  Jayna sighs.  A sign she is giving in.  “Fine—this once I’ll do it.  You owe me though when you get out of your undercover gig.”

  “Thank you.”  I catch Ottar waving at me from the doorway of their office.  I nod to Jayna before getting to my feet and going to Ottar’s office. 

  They close the door behind me and motion for me to sit.  I comply.  “How are things going with the case so far?”

  “Evans and Santana are not working together currently.  No major deals,” I say.  “I have nothing recent to arrest either group on.  I barely have any trust from either.”

  “It certainly can’t be because of your charisma,” Ottar says dryly.  I know they are disappointed to be hearing this news. 

  “You would not have stuck me in this mess if you didn’t believe I could gain their trust,” I say pointedly.  “They are both cautious people.  It takes time.”

  “I placed you with Santana because of your ties to his family.  I would have sent in Rawls if your sister wasn’t partial to his sister.”

  I scoff, even if I know it is most of the truth and reason.  “You knew I was never close to her—you could have assigned this to someone else.  This isn’t what you had me come in early for.  What did you want exactly, Captain?”

  Ottar tosses a file on the desk.  I open it and skim through it.  “One thing we know Santana and Evans are involved in aside from drugs and the black market are the underground fighting rings.”

  I look up.  “And?”

  “They have gotten larger, more complex since these two have taken to them.  Money going in and out—people too.  If we can’t get them on the fights, at least we would have something.”

  “How much money is going through this?”

  “We don’t know.  The last time we heard, nearly one hundred thousand dollars a night.  That was a year ago,” they answer.  “The business has increased by tenfold.  It is hard to keep track anymore.  That is why I want you to infiltrate.”

  I shut the folder with a slap.  “I’m already doing enough.  You want me to join fighting rings now, too?” 

  Ottar stands.  “Your other investigations have not turned up enough evidence in the previous months.  Your chances of finding something against Santana and possibly Evans are better in this corner.  Transfer most of your focus to the rings.  That is an order.”

  “Yes, Captain,” I mutter through gritted teeth. 

  Jayna knocks on the door.  We both turn to give her our attention.  “Uh, Strange you’re gonna want to see what I found on your girl.  Ottar, you might want to too.”

  We follow her out to her desk.  The girl from last night is on her computer monitor—smirking in her mugshot. 

  What did I run into the other night?

  “Venus Valiri.  Twenty-one.  In and out of juvenile detention centers since she was fourteen, arrested multiple times since reaching eighteen.”

  “And?  What does this have to do with anything?” I ask. 

  Jayna glances over her shoulder.  “A lot of her arrests were bailed out—by Thomas Santana.”

  I grip the edge of her desk, not tearing my eyes away from the smirking face in the picture.  “So she knows Santana.”

  “Since she was fifteen or sixteen, at least.”

  Ottar leans in, squinting at the screen.  “How did you come across her?  Both of you?”

  “I gave Rawls the number she gave me a few nights ago,” I say.  “Someone claiming to be the boyfriend of an acquaintance of mine brought her to me for medical attention.”  I don’t know how they learned about what I do for people in that area.  Leone was never to disclose the information.  Apparently it slipped his mind.

  Ottar nods, eyes moving from the screen to me.  “Find her again if you can.  See what she knows.  This Valiri girl could be useful.”

  I start to protest, but they are already going back to their office.  I can still feel her fingers burning a path down my chest, her gaze prowling over me.  I was hoping to never have to see her again, if it turned out she wasn’t a victim of DV.

  “You sticking around any longer or do you have to go?” Jayna asks. 

  “My sister is forcing me to have dinner with her and her fiancée,” I say.  “I have to leave.”

  “Good luck with that, I know how much you like family events.”

  I pull the hood of my sweatshirt back over my face.  “I will be needing all the luck I can receive,” I say.  I leave the precinct, mentally adding two more tasks to my already extensive list.

 

  Kerrianne frowns when she opens the door.  “I thought I told you to dress nicer than this.”

  I unzip my sweatshirt, revealing the dark grey dress shirt underneath.  “Satisfied?”

  She moves aside to let me into the apartment.  “Slightly.”

  I walk in.  Kerrianne and Zurine live in a much more upscale part of the city than I do.  Albeit I chose to live in a secluded area.  I have a view of an empty parking lot, they have a view of the river and the bridge.  How much of their money comes from the Santanas’ business?

  Thomas sets down his drink when we walk into the living room.  He smiles and leaves his sister on the couch to shake my hand. 

  “Strange—great to see you.  How long’s it been?  A month?”

  “Five weeks.”  I retract my hand from his grip quickly.  I don’t like him.  Everything he stands for.  The fact that Kerrianne is marrying his sister sickens me.  That she is a part of this at all twists my stomach. 

  “You remember a lot better than me,” he laughs.  I fight to keep my hands from forming fists.  “Since we’re all here, why don’t we move this to the dining room?  I’m pretty sure the food’s out and ready.”

  We go to the other room and sit.  I hardly touch any of the food.  Most of the conversation revolves around Zurine and Kerrianne’s wedding.  Thomas hardly mentions his work when I am around.  Neither do Kerrianne or Zurine.  Even after years, I’m not trusted.  Not as if Kerrianne has a reason to trust me. 

  I don’t stay much longer after helping clear the table.  No point in it—nothing new will be presented to me that could have been brought up during the meal.  Tension leaves Kerrianne’s shoulders when I tell her I am leaving. 

  “Thanks for coming, Maddox.  I hope we can do this again.”

  She tries to repair our relationship.  I do enough to keep her talking to me.  I nod to her and Zurine before I go.  Thomas is in the other room taking a call.  Most likely one for business.  He switches phones every two weeks.  No point in attempting to bug his phone.  If he found it, it would only be a few days before he traced it back to me.  Not a risk I can take at the moment. 

  I get a call the moment I step out of the apartment.  I answer.  “Strange.”

  “Hey—you want to come out with us tonight?  Jev and I are going for drinks.”

  “Are you asking me only because you need someone to drive you home?” I ask, stepping into the elevator. 

  “Uh…Jev’s idea.  Asked if there’s anyone I know who doesn’t drink.”

  I lean against the back wall.  “Where do you want me to pick you up?  If you go down to the warehouses, I can take you.  I work tonight.”

  “And people say you’re not a kind man.  I’ll text you the address.  Thanks Strange.”

  He hangs up.  A few seconds later a text comes in from him with an address.  Across town.  The exact opposite of this area of the city in status and crime rates.  I step off of the elevator and walk out of the lobby.  The address goes into my car’s GPS.

  I follow the directions to a rundown apartment building.  Leone’s car isn’t out front like I expected it to be. 

  After parking nearby, I go inside and walk up the stairs, each step creaking with my weight.  Not the only concerning feature.  The flickering lights in the unclean halls are as well.  The entire building is similar to what the condemned apartment I rent now used to look like. 

  The apartment mentioned in the text is the third to last down the hallway.  I knock on the door but receive no answer.  I pound on the door again.  And again.  A voice finally yells from the other side.

  “Alright, alright—don’t get your fucking panties in a wad—“

  Blue eyes blink.  The familiar face is as surprised to see me standing at her door as I am being here.  Once the shock settles, a smirk forms. 

  “Strange.  You didn’t have to hunt me down.  I gave you my number.”

  I give Valiri a onceover.  Her maroon hair is in a tangle of waves around her shoulders—still damp from a shower earlier in the evening.  She wears a faded yellow t-shirt with the words ‘If it requires pants it’s not happening’ in cracked black letters on the front.  Coincidentally she is not wearing pants.

  “I wasn’t expecting to find you here.  I was looking for Leone Grayson.”

  She taps the side of her nose.  “Ah—the boyfriend.  Met him for the first time today myself.  Pretty charming guy.  Had to’ve been to get Jevvy to settle down for longer than a month.”

  I glance down the hall.  They must have left.  I can catch them at the bar.  My shift starts in an hour anyhow.  “If they went to the bar, I should be going—“

  “Nah.  Come in for a sec.  I can get the money I owe you,” she insists.  “It’d save me a stamp, yeah?”

  I reluctantly step inside the doorway when she gestures for me to.  I watch as she walks into a kitchen.  It doesn’t take much observing to see the bruises mottling her thighs.  Even someone who is clumsy would not have that many bruises, or as large as hers are.

  “Like what you see?”

  My head snaps up.  Valiri has pauses digging in a purse sitting on the counter, eyebrows raised.  Mischief tints the corners of her lips. 

  “No,” I reply.  I keep my face clear.  “I am waiting for my money.”

  She shrugs, pulling out a wallet.  “If you say so—did I mention I can sense when a person’s lying about checking out my ass?”

  “You didn’t.  But I doubt it is the truth.  I wasn’t looking at your ass.”

  “Liar liar.”  Valiri saunters over to me, holding out five twenties.  I try to take them, but she keeps a hold on them.  “The twenty-five dollar kiss is still on the table.  No expiration date, especially for you.”

  I let out a dry laugh.  “I still don’t believe it would be worth an amount that high.” 

  “Oh, trying to hurt my ego?”  She clicks her tongue.  “Hon, I’m like iron—nothing hurts, even your biting words.”

  I slip the money from her fingers and place it in my jacket pocket.  “That is a shame to know.  I have been wasting my time, then.”

  “You’re not wasting mine.  Care to stick around a little longer?  You know Jev and his BF won’t be back for hours.”

  My gaze moves to the stitches above her eye.  I reach out, brushing my fingertips on the wound.  “I am going to pass.”  I step away.  “Clean that injury better.  It is slightly puckered.”

  “So’s my attitude,” she calls out as I step into the hall.  The door isn’t closed behind me before she shouts again.  “My name’s Valiri—first name Venus.  What’s your first?”

  I turn back briefly to meet her eye. 

  “Good bye.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have about 5 or 6 more parts/chapters already written for this so they'll go up pretty quick...for about two days. Thanks for reading.


	3. Venus: Rivals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Venus doesn't get answers and fights an old rival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a really long one, but hey, whatever

  I’m still bitter over Strange several days later.  I tried questioning Jev about him when he got back the next morning, but he couldn’t tell me much.  Or didn’t want to tell me anything.  I didn’t get a chance to ask Leo yet either.  He hasn’t been around since the night they went to bar.  The same night Strange showed up and turned me down for a second time.  The guy’s an ass—why am I so set on sleeping with him?  Well, I guess I enjoy a challenge. 

  Jev and Leo walk into the garage together.  I can hear them laughing from where my head’s buried in beneath this car’s hood.  Maybe I can get my chance to ask Leo now.

  “Hey—Vinny.  You up for a party tonight?” Jev asks. 

  I step away from the car, careful not to smack my head on anything.  “Can’t.  I have something I’m doing.”

  “What’re you doing that’s so much more important than dancing and booze?  Is the something you’re doing a someone?”  Jev grins and winks. 

  I roll my eyes as I wipe my hands with an already dirty rag.  Leo waves to me with a little smile.  I wave back.  “It’s not a someone.  I’m meeting with a friend or two from high school.” 

  Hate lying to Jev of all people.  I’ve got a fight tonight, at the warehouse.  Another big buck gamble.  I’m going up against an old rival—Mia.  She’s gone up in the ranks since the last time we fought.  Hope she’s actually a challenge this time.

  “Your friends are invited too,” Jev says.  “The more the merrier.”

  “Sarah’s not the party type.  She’s not gonna go for a party scene.”  I shut the car’s hood, shoving the rag in my jumpsuit pocket.  I have the top half shrugged down around my hips, held out of the way by the jumpsuit arms being tied around my waist.  My grey tank’s covered in oil and grease smudges my arms and hands. 

  Jev sticks out his lower lip.  “Can’t she make an exception?”

  “Nope.”  I turn to Leo.  “What about your friend Strange?”

  “What about him?”  He’s looking wary.  It makes me suspicious. 

  “Anything.  Does he work at the bar you went to last night?  How long’ve you known him?  He single?”

  Leo laughs.  “I’ve been carefully instructed not to give you any information about him.  Sorry, Venus.”

  I sigh.  “Your friend’s a prick then.  I’ve met him twice and he’s cockblocked me at every turn,” I say, walking into the office area of the shop.  Jev and Leo follow.  “Expected his friend to do that, but he’s got the blocking handled—I think it’s the first time someone’s cockblocked themselves from me.”

  “He doesn’t like getting close with people—or people trying to be friendly.” 

  The computer whirs as I turn it on.  Damn it—who the fuck turned it off?  I need to clock out.  “Figured that out myself, for the most part.  Any way to sweeten him up?”

  He shrugs.  “Stop trying?”

  I log on the desktop and pull up the work clock.  “Nice advice, man.  It’ll really help me in the sack with him.”

  “Why’re you so hell bent on him?” Jev asks.  “You’ve met him twice and he doesn’t seem interested.”

  I strip out of my jumpsuit and pull on a pair of sweats from my bag on the chair.  “The heart wants what the heart wants—well, maybe not my heart—“

  “Venus, please.”

  “You asked, Jevon.  You asked.” 

  We walk out of the shop together.  I sling my bag on the back of the motorcycle Milton’s lending to me while he’s in Italy for something.  Tighten the straps around it so it won’t fly off.  I look over when Leo’s car beeps.  Before they can get in, I yell out one last question.

  “Can you at least tell me his first name?”

  Leo looks back, teeth flashing.  “The only person you’re going to get that from is Strange himself.  Have a good night, Venus.”

 

  I’ve got the wraps tight around my hands.  The door swings open.  A head pops in.  “Ready?” the woman asks.  She’s an alternate ref if the regular one isn’t here.  I nod. 

  “I always am.” 

  I check my wraps and laces one last time before following her out of the room and into the ring.  There’s a lot more jeers and boos this time.  I’m not on my usual turf.  Mia’s a bigger star around here than I am.  Of course most bets are gonna be going against me this time. 

  Before I can get past the red circle marking off the fighting area, a hand grasps my elbow.  I meet Thomas’s gaze, just a couple inches higher than mine. 

  “Do good out there, Aviva.  I’m counting on you to win,” he says.  His grip tightens for a millisecond.  “You’ll be paying me back if you lose me money.”

  I’ve known Thomas since we were young.  There’s no intimidating me like he does the rest of his fighters.  I jerk out of his grasp.  “Have better faith in me, Tommy.  I barely ever lose.”

  I enter the ring.  Mia steps out about the same time I do.  She sneers and I return it with a sickly sweet smile.  It just makes her pissed. 

  The announcer riles up the crowd, reminds us there’s no rules, and gives the signal for the match to begin.  I’m sure as hell not wasting the chance to get my punch in first.

  Mia’s nose crunches under my knuckles.  First punch of the fight and her nose is already broken.  I don’t want to get too cocky yet—who am I kidding I am.

  I grab her and ram my knee into her stomach once, twice, before she breaks out of my hold.  She drills her elbows into my ribs, hard enough I feel a crack.  I stop her from getting any more shots in by getting behind her and wrapping an arm around her neck.

  An attempt’s made to claw at my eyes as Mia tries to break out of my sleeper hold.  My head jerks back.  I click my tongue.  My eyes are my best feature. 

  My thigh starts burning, stinging.  I feel something warm pool there and drip down my leg.  I let go of Mia and grab my thigh.  She cut me, left a long gash across my skin.  What did she use—

  The small blade whips over the top of my forearm.  It draws a line of red and stings as much as the other cut.  I hiss in pain, letting the hiss turn into a snarl.  My head snaps up to catch Mia’s grin.  Her knife is shining with my blood.  She has enough of a grudge against me from our last fight—over six months ago—to try to kill me in the ring.  In front of a fucking audience. 

  I charge forward so she doesn’t have another chance to use the knife.  I’m a flurry of punches to her skull and elbows to wherever I can reach.  The tiny blade drives into my shoulder somewhere in the middle of my unrelenting assault.  My teeth grind together and I keep going until Mia drops.  Another KO under my belt. 

  I get a lot more jeers and insults thrown my way by watchers pissed they lost their money.  Maybe they shouldn’t’ve bet against me.  Their loss—my gain.  And pain, ironically…

  I waste no time collecting my money and things.  I’m out of there before Thomas can find me again or anyone else.  Blood’s dripping down my leg and from my shoulder.  I’m not really in the mood for having someone talk my ear off. 

  Outside’s dark and hot.  Muggy as hell.  I hate summer weather, at least on nights like this.  I swing my leg over the bike, biting my tongue when it sends a burst of pain through my thigh.  I covered in blood and bruises.  Can’t show up at home like this.  Jev will wig out and my secret will be blown.  I have two choices.  I choose the one I actually don’t mind.

  Somehow I find my way back to the place.  Thank god it’s close to the warehouse the fight was at.  I’m sick of looking at warehouses and being in them.  What’s one more gonna hurt?

  I limp up the stairs and knock on the door.  It’s not as late as before…but still it’ll probably bite me in the ass…

  The door swings open with as much angry force as last time.  The livid scowl is switched out for a look of surprise and concern once the blood and wounds are spotted. 

  I offer up a weak smile. 

  “Miss me?”


	4. Maddox: Misinterpretations and Stitches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maddox deals with an unexpected visitor and unwanted advances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading

  This was not the sight I was expecting to see.  Something along the lines of a drunk neighbor trying to get in the wrong apartment.  Not a bloody and battered girl I have met twice under abnormal circumstances.  Still, I quickly lead her into the apartment and shut the door behind us.

  I finally see the knife sticking out of her left shoulder.  “What the fuck happened?”

  Valiri groans at the pressure I place on her shoulder.  Her left hand goes to press down on the cut on her thigh.  “Nothing—nothing major,” she gasps out. 

  “You have a knife buried in you.  Is that what you call nothing?” I snap.

  “Would’ve been worse if I pulled it out,” she throws back.  “Are you going to help or not?  I can leave and find someone else.”

  I grab her uninjured thigh to keep her from rising.  “Let me get my med kit,” I say, voice level.  If I was not scowling, she would not be able to tell I was irritated.  “Stay put and keep pressure on the wounds—I meant it.  Do not move.”

  “Yes sir,” she says, giving me a mock salute accompanied with a grimace.  I roll my eyes and go to get the kit.  I come back to find her sitting where I left her.  Sitting on the coffee table in front of her, I open the kit.

  “I am going to remove the knife first.  You are going to have to be ready to cover it the second I have it out.  Understand?”

  She shifts closer and takes the towel I offer.  “This ain’t my first rodeo, cowboy.  Just get it over with so I can pay and go.”

  I choose not to reply or ask questions.  I wrap my hand around the knife and carefully remove it from her shoulder.  A strangled cry issues from her lips, otherwise she doesn’t jerk away or make any other sounds.  The towel is pressed quick to the wound. 

  “Lie back,” I order.  I help her shift her legs onto the couch before moving up near her head.  She lifts the towel when I motion for her too.  After making a quick process of assisting her in slipping her arm out of the shirtsleeve, I set to work. 

  Cleaning with a wet rag and alcohol wipes first, then using the suture to stitch the wound back together.  I refrain from covering it with a bandage yet and move on to the cut on her forearm.  Perhaps made by the same blade?

  Surprisingly, Valiri does not speak while I am working.  Her expression changes every so often, always somewhere in between a wince and a grimace.  No yelps or groans after the knife was removed.  She is used to pain it seems.  I don’t appreciate knowing the fact. 

  The last wound is the one on her thigh.  The only way I am getting at it is if she removes her shorts.  I sigh.  _Here we go…_

  “Shorts off,” I say. 

  Valiri lifts herself onto her elbows, eyebrows high.  “Little early in this relationship—not that I’m complaining.  Just thought you weren’t interested.”

  “I’m not.  It is for accessibility to your wound.”

  “Well, it’s access to something else too—“

  “Are you going to remove them, or am I going to have to take them off for you?” I growl. 

  She grins, wide and taunting.  “I won’t if you’re offering to do it for me, to be honest.”

  I choose not to be gentle as I yank her shorts down her legs, but not fully off her body.  I sit back down on the coffee table.  My ignoring of her smug expression is obvious as I clean her injury quickly.  I want to have this done so I don’t have to think about it any longer. 

  I stand once the thread is tied off and knotted.  I turn my back to her and begin cleaning up the coffee table and surrounding floor. 

  “Try not to tear out the stitches when you leave,” I say.  “I’m redoing them for you.”

  I hear her stand and the rustle of clothing.  “If I paid you again to fix them would you—by the way, how much do I owe you for—“

  Valiri gasps.  I turn and catch her just before she falls.  Her face is pale, grip on my biceps shaking.  I ease her back onto the couch.  She cradles her side as if she suddenly remembered pain being located there. 

  Without thinking, I take hold of the hem of her t-shirt and lift it against her protests. 

  Her torso is a canvas for bruises.  Fresh and fading.  Black, purple, yellow, green.  All shapes and sizes.  This girl has taken more than one beating from someone. 

  The second I touch her ribs, she rips the fabric from my hand and tugs it back over her stomach.  Her face is red, head tucked down.  I don’t take my eyes off of her. 

  “Who has been doing this to you?” I ask.  My voice has become softer.  It is the tone I usually take on when I am interviewing abuse victims back at the precinct.  When I wasn’t stuck in this complicated hell. 

  Valiri doesn’t answer.  She tries to stand.  I place my forearm across her lap to stop her, watching and waiting.  “Was it the man who brought you here the last time?”

  She laughs, quickly shaking her head.  “No—no.  Jev would never even hurt a fly.  Why do you think he…”  She blinks, suddenly wary of the lack of hostility in my features.  “You think he’s hitting me?”

  “Someone is and has been for some time,” I say.  “The bruises are the evidence.”

  She pushes my arm away and gets to her feet.  “No—not Jev.  He’s my roommate and my friend.  Practically my brother.”  She grabs the bag she brought in with her.  “Just—just don’t worry about it.  How much do you want for this?”

  I follow her to the door, trying to make it before she can open it.  She brings out a thick envelope from her bag and begins rifling through it.  Looking up, she asks again, “How much?”

  I place my hand on the door handle to prevent her escape.  “Not until you tell me who is doing this.  I am not letting you leave without saying.”

  Valiri scowls and tightens her hold on the envelope.  “How’s it any of your business how I got these bruises?  Oh I know—it’s not.”

  My voice lowers to a murmur.  “If you tell me their name, they will not hurt you again.  Trust me.  Just give me a name.”

  Once again she is taken aback by what I am saying.  She stares for a long moment, eyes shifting over my face.  “You’re not letting this go, are you?”

  “No.  I’m not.”

  She closes her eyes.  I watch her take in a breath and release it as her shoulders sag a fraction.  “It’s not…one person,” she says slowly.  “I do fight rings.”

  It becomes my turn to stare bewildered at her.  “Fighting rings.  As in the illegal ones.”

  “Yeah.  Are there even legal ones around here?”

  I notice the money crammed into the envelope in her hand.  Has to be hundreds in it, possibly a thousand.  Everything begins to make sense about this girl now. 

  “There aren’t,” I reply.  “All these injuries were from fights?”

  “Yes—except maybe a couple from running into chairs or doors.  Can I pay you and go now or—“

  I steady her before she falls.  Valiri curses, hand at her side once more.  She tries to wave me off with the other. 

  “I’m fine—I’m fine.  It’s just a stitch.  I’ll be great when I get back to my place.”

  “It may be more than a stitch in your side.  Is your roommate going to be able to keep an eye on you tonight in the case it isn’t?” I ask her. 

  She bites her lip.  “Haven’t told Jev or anybody else about the…fighting thing.  Don’t really want to either so…no.  He can’t.”

  I already know what I am going to have to do before I fully go through the list of repercussions.  Massaging the place between my brows, I sigh.  “I will go find something clean for you to wear while you take a shower.  I can bandage your wounds and check your side once you—“

  “Whoa, whoa.  What?” Valiri interrupts.  “What is this?  What’re you saying?”

  “Is it not obvious?” I snap.  “You are spending the night here so I can watch over you.  No arguing.”

  She looks as if she would like to argue, but suddenly changes her mind as a grin cracks her lips.  “Y’know if you wanted me to stay so badly you didn’t have to come up with this elaborate excuse.”

  “Go take a shower before I change my mind,” I bark. 

  With a wink, she carefully makes her way into the bathroom and closes the door.  After hearing the water being turned on, I go to locate something for her to wear.  I don’t know if any of my clothing will fit her well.  She is much shorter and smaller compared to me. 

  I do end up finding a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that will work and leave them by the door.  I take to cleaning up the living room and wiping down the couch while she showers.  The door opens as I walk by, and I catch sight of her briefly as she snatches the set of clothing from the floor.  A few minutes later she comes out in the sweats rolled up three times to keep them from dragging on the floor and the t-shirt slipping off her injured shoulder. 

  She joins me in the kitchen area, combing her fingers through her damp hair.  “Your shower’s cold as fuck,” she states.  “You should get your handy guy to look at it.”

  “Cold showers are not a problem for me.  Sit down.”

  She slides onto the stool in front of me.  “If you’re having guests like me, get it fixed.  I don’t like cold showers.  No one but you does.”

  I make no move to respond to her, only slather antibiotics on her shoulder and forearm before placing bandages on the injuries.  Her eyes remain on my face the entire process. 

  “You’re pretty calm about all this,” she says.  “Me randomly showing up, the fighting thing.  You seen some shit or what?”

  “I know a limited amount of information about you.  I frankly do not care.”

  Valiri chuckles, leaning dangerously close.  “We can change that, y’know.  I wouldn’t mind.”

  “I would. Do you want antibiotics on your leg as well?”

  “If you’re offering to do it—yes.”

  I study her a moment with a bored expression before leaving the kitchen.  Her mutters can still be heard when I slip into my bedroom to take a pillow from the bed.  When I step out from behind the curtain, Valiri is across the room.  I pause to watch her run her fingers down a number of book spines.  She stops when she reaches the end, looking over her shoulder at me. 

  “I hate reading, but you’ve got an impressive collection going on.  How many’ve you read?”

  I toss the pillow onto the couch.  “I don’t know,” I answer.  “You can take the bed.”

  A grin is plastered on her face.  “How many people do you offer your bed to exactly?” she asks, sauntering over. 

  I should have known she wouldn’t just say thank you and go the fuck to sleep.  I count to ten before turning to her.  “Why does it matter?” I snap, words clipped. 

  She shrugs, leaning her forearms on the back of the couch.  “Just want to know if I’ve got competition, or any past flings to worry about.”

  Does she ever stop?  Apparently not.  “You would be the first.  I need to wake up early for a meeting, so I would appreciate you at least shutting the fuck up.”

  Valiri’s eyebrows raise higher at my admission, but she makes no comment on it.  She opts for saying something even more annoying. 

  “Y’know there is a great way to shut me up if you wanna try it—“

  “Does it ever cease with you?” I bark.  “Stop with the advances and flirting.  I am not interested, and I never will be.”

  She doesn’t waver.  Patting my arm as she walks by, she says, “Never say never.”  Turning back before passing into the sectioned off bedroom.  “Good night, Strange.  You can come join me at any time.” 

  With a wink and a laugh, she disappears behind the curtain.  I shake my head, wincing when the movement aggravates my headache. 

  What the hell has this job gotten me into?


	5. Venus: Lying Is The Most A Girl Can Have...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Venus gets back home after staying at Maddox's, and the two of them get into a fight...or more than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More patd references lmao I'm sorry

  I wake up in a bed that’s not mine.  The sheets smell like fabric softener and mint.  Late morning light fails to get through the dust-caked windows.  I stretch my arms over my head and immediately regret doing it. 

  “ _Fuck_.”  I grit my teeth at the searing pain in my shoulder.  Oh yeah.  The fight last night.  Everything comes back to me now.  Especially what happened after. 

  The second he comes to mind, Strange pushes past the curtain.  He walks over to a dresser near the windows without a glance my way.  I watch him dig around for a moment for something before I let out a cough. 

  His hands still, shoulders tensing.  He keeps his back to me.  “How are your injuries?”

  That’s all I’m gonna get?  “Good,” I say.  He goes back to digging.  “Still hurt like hell, but better than before I showed up here.”

   A small nod of his head is his way of acknowledging my reply.  He finds whatever he’s looking for and slams the drawer shut.  Before he can walk out of the room I try to stop him. 

  “Hey—no ‘that’s good’ or ‘you’re welcome’?”

  Slowly, he turns.  He looks out of the corner of his eye.  “Am I getting a thank you to warrant a you’re welcome?”

  I meet his cold stare with one of my own.  “Thanks.”

  “You are welcome.”

  He walks out of the room.  Not another word.  Yet again I’m rejected.  I know I shouldn’t let it, but damn it hurts.  I hate this guy.

  Grumbling, I carefully pull myself out of the bed and limp cautiously into the main part of the apartment.  I get a little half-second peek at a strip of his tan back as he pulls on the fresh t-shirt he grabbed.  I probably have a lusty look on my face or something because he glares when he turns.  After shooting the glare he snags a plastic bag and a set of keys off the coffee table in front of him.

  “Your clothes and phone,” he says, tossing them to me.  “Change back if you want or keep those.  I couldn’t care less.  We leave in a few minutes.”

  My eyes follow him moving around the room, picking up the pillow and blanket off the floor.  “Didn’t you have a meeting or something?  Where are we going?”

  “I am taking you home,” he says, raising his voice as he goes into the bedroom.  “I went to the meeting.  You were still sleeping.”

  Still sleeping…what time is it now?  I dig my phone out of the bag.  It’s dead.  I look for a clock in the room.  Doesn’t have one.  How does this douche know what time it is?  Strange comes back in the room and I see a watch on his wrist.  I scramble over and grab his arm, reading the time before he rips away. 

  “Fuck—it’s 11:00?  Jev’s gotta be freaking the fuck out—worried.  Why the hell didn’t you get me up earlier?” I spit out. 

  “One: I am not your alarm clock.  Two: You said nothing about needing to leave at a certain time before your friend would notice you missing.  Not my fault, or problem.”

  Wow.  Really lucky he’s hot.  It makes up for him being a douche.  Almost.  

  “You should’ve realized there’d be people looking for me—so, your fault.  And now problem.”

  His eyeroll’s not even subtle.  I’m .05 seconds away from punching him in the face when he walks away.

  “Then we should leave.  Unless you rather keep arguing about whose problem this is,” Strange says.  He opens the door, jabbing towards the hallway.  My cue to get the hell out. 

  My fingers curl around the bag and I stalk past.  I make sure to shove him with my uninjured shoulder—which is a bad move.  He doesn’t move an inch from it and my ribs and other shoulder throb.  It’s still satisfying showing him I’m not scared of him, and that I’m annoyed.

  When we get downstairs I remember I drove Milton’s motorcycle last night. 

  “You know what, you don’t have to take me anywhere.  I’ve got my bike.”

  He stops me from walking to where I left it.  “It’s in the back of my truck.”

  “Then get it out.  I can drive it home,” I say.  “I think we both’d be happier if you didn’t have to take me anywhere.”

  Strange shakes his head.  “Not risking you pulling stitches while riding a motorcycle through the streets.  This is safer.”

  I keep arguing.  “I got here just fine when I was losing blood—and had a knife stuck in my shoulder.  I’m capable.”

  “That was luck.”

  My hand finds its way to my hip.  Now I’m getting tired of swapping shit back and forth with him.  “Why’re you so hell bent on driving me home?  You don’t like me.”

  “It’s my j—“  He stops himself, taking in a deep breath and letting it out again.  “I don’t have to have a reason.  Get in the damn truck before I force you to.”

  I make a face, but don’t say anything.  Stalking over to the passenger side I throw open the door and climb in.  The door slams shut behind me. 

  Strange gets in the driver’s seat, muttering and cursing under his breath.  The truck starts and pulls away from the curb.  We don’t talk at all on the drive to my place, aside from me pointing out which way for him to turn every so often.  For the most part he seems to know where he’s going. 

  I try to help him get the motorcycle out of the back when we get to the building.  Strange refuses to let me, arguing about me pulling stitches or some shit.  In the end I just stand to the side and watch him get it out of the truckbed.  Lucky for him it’s a lightweight bike—and lucky for me that t-shirt is pretty tight…

  I take the motorcycle and move it to an empty parking spot.  Strange is still here. 

  “You can leave, y’know.  I paid you, and I’m home.  There’s really no reason for you to stick around.”  I thought he’d leave the first chance he got anyways. 

  “I take you upstairs, then I go.”

  I scowl.  “I’m not a kid, Strange.  Don’t act like I can’t take care of myself.”

  “I realize that, but Leone texted me—he and Jev have been looking for you.  I told him I just brought you home.”

  “Ah shit—“  I don’t bother arguing or yelling at him for telling Leone I was with him.  I’ve gotta get the situation cooled down, now that I know Jev was freaking the fuck out like I thought he probably would.

    My shoulder and leg scream at me as I sprint up four flights of stairs.  The door hits the hall when I open it, panting and wincing.  Jev and Leone stand frozen in the middle of a conversation, staring at me.  Three seconds later and Jev’s got me in a tight hug. 

  “I’ve been so fucking worried Vinny…” he murmurs, squeezing me.  I bite back a pained groaned and dig my fingers into his back. 

  “I’m—fine—Just can’t—breathe,” I wheeze. 

  He lets go.  “Sorry—Sorry.  But Venus, where the hell were you?”

  My shoulder’s throbbing.  I try not to hold it.  Don’t want Jev noticing and questioning me on it.  “I was out with Sarah last night.”

  “Yeah I know that—but where the fuck did you go afterwards?  I tried calling and calling and then Leone finally tries to ask Strange for help finding you and _he_ says he’s bringing you home—“

  “My phone was dead and it was really late—“

  “You still could’ve made it home—“

  “Jev—“

“Wait hold on.  Is that a bruise?”  He prods at my cheek and I jerk away with a hiss.  “Ok, tell me what happened.  _Now._ ”

  “I—“

  “She told me she was mugged near my building.”  Both Jev and I whip our heads towards the door.  Strange walks in, my bag and the plastic one with my phone and clothes in it.  I must’ve forgot it in his truck.  “She found her way back to my apartment and I let her stay the night.”

  Jev turns back to me.  “You didn’t think to start with that?  And how d’you still have your phone if you were mugged?”

  “It was an attempted mugging,” I spit out, half grateful and half pissed with Strange.  Wouldn’t have come up with that myself.  “Got into a fight with the guy and he ran off.  I guess I wasn’t really thinking when I went to Strange’s place to crash.  Otherwise I would’ve called you—you know that.”

  “It’s alright, Vinny.  I’m just glad you’re alright.”  Jev wraps an arm around my shoulders.  Hopefully he can’t feel the bandage.  “Thanks for helping her out Strange.  We both owe you.”

  _I already paid him_ , I think bitterly.  Strange just nods. 

  Leone walks over, thumbs flying over his phone’s keyboard.  “Sorry, but I’ve got to go.  Glad you’re ok, Venus.”  He kisses Jev as he passes by.  “Bye.”

  Jev drops his arm.  “I’ve gotta go too—meeting with some clients.  You good being alone, boo?” he asks. 

  I nod.  “I’m perfectly fine Jev.  No worries,” I smile tightly.  God, I just want to inhale a bottle of pain killers and sleep for another good twelve hours.  And I’m starving.

  He leaves with a kiss on my cheek.  I sigh, running a hand through my hair.  So glad I lied through this one so smoothly—

  Strange clears his throat.  I jump at the sound.  Shit, the dude’s like a ghost.  I thought maybe he’d left with Leone. 

  “Why the hell are you still here?” I snap.  I walk into the kitchen to find the pills and some food, not really caring if he follows me or not. 

  “Why did you not tell him the truth?” he asks, leaning against the doorframe. 

  I find the pain killers but nothing good to eat.  “Why do you care if I do?”  I do find a bottle of cheap whiskey in the same cabinet though.  It chases down the three pills I pop.

  “That is not healthy.” 

  I’m guessing he means the whiskey and pill combo.  I knock back another swig of whiskey without breaking eye contact with him.  “So?  Like I said: Why do you care?”

  “He seems important to you.  Why lie to him?”

  “’Cause the reason you just said.  He’s like family, and you don’t tell family you enjoy getting beat to shit for a couple extra bucks.  Besides, you’re the one who swooped in with the mugging story.  Nice touch.”

  “I was hoping you would refute it, tell him what actually occurred.”

  I smirk at him.  “Honey, one thing you better learn about me—I’m not a very truthful person.  Especially when it comes to hiding my illegal activities from people I don’t want to know.”

  “He is going to learn about it eventually.  Why not tell him now?”

  “I’m betting on that never being a bridge I get to.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go pass out again—“

  Strange grabs my arm as I try to get past him.  His gaze is steady and cold.  “Tell him when he returns, or I will.”

  I rip out of his grip.  My lip’s curled back from my teeth.  “That’s not you’re call to make.”

  “Why the hell are you refusing to tell the truth—“

  “I told you already.”

  “No, you have more than one reason.”

  I push closer to him, not letting him think he’s got some upper hand with his height towering over me.  “No I don’t.  Why’re you shoving into business that isn’t fucking yours?”

  He tilts his head, chin jutting out when his teeth grind together.  “He should know before he finds you dead in those rings.  Has everything he thought he knew about you ripped out from under him.  You don’t realize you are hurting him more by not saying anything—“

  “I am trying to protect him from that!” I yell.  I try to calm down, lower my voice but I’m vibrating with anger.  “He’ll never know what happened to me.  My boss’ll take care of it.”

  Strange doesn’t push me to elaborate but I can see him filing away that info for another day.  “And you think that is better for him?”

  “If he doesn’t know I’m a piece of shit?  Abso-fucking-lutely.”

  The longer he doesn’t say anything, the more I notice how close we are.  Knuckles pressed against his arm, chest brushing his with almost every inhale.  His breath fans across my face, warm and smelling like mint.  If I wasn’t so pissed I’d be turned on by the fact that I’m crammed in a doorway with him.

  “You should tell him,” Strange says, voice low. 

  I finally get myself to move.  Walking over to the door I throw over my shoulder, “Thanks for the advice guy I’ve met three times.”  I throw open the door.  “Now get out of my house—and my life.”

  “Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Strange snarls and stalks past me.  I slam the door shut the second he’s out the doorway.

  Guy’s lucky he was hot, otherwise I would’ve kicked his ass on day one.

 

  It’s been a couple days since the fight with Mia.  My body still aches a little, but nothing I can’t handle.  Jev still peppers me with questions and concern.  I manage to dodge it all.  Give it another week and he’ll stop.  No worries.

  I tie on my apron in the breakroom, grabbing my pencil and pad off the table and hurry out to the main part of the restaurant.

  I’m working two shifts tonight at the restaurant—the first one just got over.  I want to die, or sleep for a few hours.  Maybe I should tell my boss I quit before I have to start—

  “Vivian, you got a table.  Move your ass.”

  Ellie meets my glare with her own and saunters off with a tray of drinks. 

  “Yes ma’am,” I mutter to myself.  Plastering a waitress-smile on, I walk towards my tables.  The smile’s gone in two seconds seeing who’s at one of the booths.

  _Fucking—_ I stop at the booth.  “I thought I told you to stay out of my life,” I say. 

  Strange raises his head, hitting pause on whatever conversation he’s having with the guy sitting across from him.  I watch those green eyes narrow.  “How was I to know you worked here?” he asks.  The words are sharp and hostile.  Oh good, I get to fight in the middle of another job.

  I cock my hip and narrow my gaze, too.  “Now you know, and now you can leave.”

  “Excuse me, who’re you?” the other guy cuts in.  I give him a bored look.

  “I _was_ your waitress.  Who’re you?”

  “His boyfriend.”

  I bark out a laugh.  “Wow, someone wanted to actually date an asshole like you?”  _Aside from me—well, I just wanted sex but—_

  The ‘boyfriend’ opens his mouth again.  “Hey—if you don’t stop treating us like this I’m going to talk to your manager.”

 “Please, I’d love to see you try.”

  He starts getting up.  Strange holds out a hand.  “Michael.  Let me handle this.”  As Michael sits back down, Strange gets up.  Something in his face changes.  “Valiri, we need to talk.”

  “No we don’t—“

  “It was not a request.”  He turns me around and walks me to the back of the restaurant.  The hand on my back is way gentler than I’d expected.  Its pressure’s gone when we get into the men’s restroom. 

  I back away from him as he locks the door.  “Whoa ok, I don’t think I said anything that’d make you want to kill me—“

  “I don’t plan on hurting you.”

  “Then what…”

  He nods to my shoulder.  I look down.  I spot the blood seeping through my white shirt, a quiet ‘oh’ popping out of my mouth. 

  “Well shit,” I mutter.  No way of getting that out, or covering it up for the rest of my shift.  “Thanks for pointing that out.”

  I try to unlock the door.  Strange blocks the way, hands going to the top button of my shirt.

  “What the fuck?”  I bat his hands away after he starts unbuttoning it.  “Normally I’d be down for a bathroom quickie—if the person _fucking asks_.”

  Strange raises an eyebrow.  “I want to see your shoulder.”

  “Oh shoulders.  Exciting.” 

  Now he rolls his eyes at me.  “Just show me, Valiri.”

  “You’re not a doctor.”

  “And yet I am the closest thing to one in this room.  Show me.  Now.”

  I hold out for another second before giving in.  My fingers undo the top couple buttons.  I pull back the fabric and expose the soaked bandage.  Strange steps in a little more, reaches for the bandage to look at the wound. 

  A hiss whistles through my teeth.  The bandage sticks to my skin with blood.  It pulls on the stitches a little and to my surprise Strange breathes out a quiet apology.  A crease forms between his eyebrows. 

  “You haven’t been cleaning this properly,” he murmurs. 

  “I try my best,” I reply dryly.

  He reaches around me for a paper towel and dabs at the blood.  “Try better.”

  I snort.  “Aye aye, Captain.”  It’s hard not to notice how he pretty much has his face in my cleavage and he’s not even looking at it.  So I stuff my ego down and try to distract it.  “Isn’t your boyfriend gonna be waiting for you?”

  “He isn’t my boyfriend.”

  Huh.  Interesting.  “He said he was.”

  “I have told him before he isn’t.”

  “Sucks when someone doesn’t get the memo, yeah?”

  Strange raises his eyes to mine for a brief second.  “I suppose so.” 

  I feel my lips twitch into a smirk.  I lean in.  “So if he’s not your boyfriend, does that mean you’re single?”

  He straightens up looking pretty unamused.  “I am, but I am not interested in you.”

  So forward.  I might hate him but damn, I can feel it in my bones that hate sex with him would be the best.  “That hand on my breast is saying otherwise to me.”

  His hand slipped down a couple inches, calloused fingers brushing the skin right above my bra.  I’ll give him credit; he doesn’t look embarrassed as he takes his hand away. 

  “Accident.”  He unlocks the door and holds it open for me.  “Won’t be happening again.”

  “Shame.”  I wink as I walk past, buttoning my dress shirt.  “That’d be the only time I’d enjoy seeing your face.” 

  “Take better care cleaning your wounds, Valiri.  I rather not have another reason to have you at my doorstep again.” 

  Strange slips past me without another glance.  I watch him walk back to Not-The-BF-Michael and sigh.  Hope Ellie’s got an extra shirt I can steal. 

  I’m in luck.  Eleanor’s locker has another white button-down in it.  I strip out of my bloodstained shirt in the middle of the breakroom and pull on Ellie’s.

  “Why the hell are you putting on my shirt?” Ellie barks from the doorway. 

  I quickly button the shirt so she can’t rip it off me.  “Got food on mine—I’ll pay you...ten bucks to let me wear this one for the rest of my shift.”

  “Fifteen and you wash it before returning it,” she grumbles.  “You have three tables now.  Get moving or the manager’ll have both our asses.”

  No arguing with that.  I follow her out, getting to the main dining area just as I see Strange and Michael walking out.  Strange catches my eye as he opens the door.  I wink on reflex.  He shakes his head and walks out.  I swear I see the hint of a smirk on his face before he leaves.

  God, I really do want that hate sex.    


	6. Maddox: Someone Else's Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maddox makes a very stupid decision. Like, Venus level of stupid.

  “I don’t like surprises.”

  I say it quiet enough only Kerrianne hears.  Zurine and Thomas are up in the front seats of the car.  The music helps in covering my voice.  I don’t know how I was forced into this car. 

  Kerrianne glances briefly in my direction.  “I know.  Thomas thought this would be better as a surprise for you.”

  I roll my eyes.  She somehow catches it in the dim lighting.  “At least he is trying.  You are going to be brothers-in-law soon.  The least you could do is endure one night.”

  “I did.  Almost two weeks ago.” 

  Kerrianne sighs.  “You are impossible...”

  Thomas drives for another fifteen minutes before pulling into an alleyway.  He and Zurine get out first, then Kerrianne follows.  I stay in the car, too overly cautious to blindly trust Thomas, and my own sister.  But I have to if I want their trust in return. 

  We follow Thomas through a steel door and down a flight of stairs.  Voices float up the stairs, becoming louder as we go.  Where the hell has Thomas brought us?

  I blink against the harsh light of the flood lamps set up around the vast room.  Most of the focus is on the middle of the room.  Dozens of people stand around a ring of red painted on the floor.  They shout curses and praise and insults at the two men in the ring.  Sweat and blood clings to their skin—I can practically smell the stinging scent of copper in the air. 

  _The fighting rings._   My first glimpse of them.  My evidence is beginning to stack up against Thomas, little by little. 

  We move closer to the crowd.  The bigger of the two fighters punches the other.  Once.  Twice.  Sends him down to his knees.  One kick to his chin is all it takes for the larger fighter to send him out.  The crowd roars, boos.  The winner’s hand is held up in victory, and the loser is dragged off to the side. 

  Barbaric. 

  My mind is drifting to one particular fighter when a hand claps onto my shoulder.  I jump, whipping my head around to see Thomas flashing me a grin. 

  “Thought you’d be into this kind of thing.  Kerrianne told me you did boxing and such a while ago,” he says.  “Just think of it as that—without the gloves or rules.”

  I nod.  Can’t bring myself to say anything to him.  To my relief his hand slides from my shoulder. 

  “The next fight’s gonna be a good one.  I’ve got my best fighter in there.”  He grins again before loping off.  I turn back to the ring, scanning the crowd.

  Kerrianne and Zurine are the most finely dressed—dresses from upscale stores in the area, finely cut and pristine.  Most of the crowd is rumpled, ripped.  They fit in with one another.  Zurine and Ker do not.

  I pay attention to the middle of the ring as an announcer with wild hair shouts through a megaphone. 

  “Everybody placed your bets?” they shout.  The spectators respond with shouts of their own.  “Good, ‘cause this is gonna be a real bread winner.  Let’s hear it for Innes and Aviva!”

  Through the flailing arms I see a blond man enter the ring from the opposite side.  He can’t be more than twenty-one.  He doesn’t smile at the crowd, or smile at all.  Determination lights his eyes.  Nothing more.

  Someone brushes past me.  All I see is a shock of red.  It lurches something in my thoughts, and I follow it.  Push my way through the crowd as I watch Venus Valiri step across the ring’s threshold.

  Unlike her opponent, she smirks as if she has already won.  Her wrapped fist pumps in the air and is met with both catcalls and whoops. 

  I knew this is what she did, but seeing her in this environment makes it much more real.  Down to the black sports bra and dark purple spandex shorts clinging to her body, the tight ponytail swinging behind her.  I don’t know if I want to see this outcome.

  Innes and Valiri face one another.  The announcer says something to them, then motions for the fight to begin.  They leap back into the crowd and watches it all unfold.

  The two circle each other fists up to protect their faces, stances ready.  Valiri has yet to lose the smirk.  She is the first to make a move.

  Innes dodges her punch and wraps an arm around her neck.  He drives his fist into her stomach again and again.  Valiri breaks out of his hold, dropping to the ground.  She pants and gags, not realizing her opponent is closing in. 

  Valiri rolls to the side seconds before Innes’ foot connects with her face.  She’s up, ramming her elbow into the back of his head and making him stagger.  Her smirk is gone.  Replaced by a snarl similar to the one I was privy to days earlier. 

  Valiri and Innes trade a few more blows back and forth.  On the last hit, Valiri’s knee crunches his nose, and he crumples.  He doesn’t get back onto his feet.  Valiri smiles through her barred teeth as the spectators begin yelling. 

  My eyes follow her out of the ring to the makeshift bar on the other side of the room.  Without thinking it over I push through the crowd to the bar. 

  She turns the moment I walk up.  Surprise flickers over her features.  She sets down the beer in her hand.  “What the hell are you doing here?” she asks.  “Are you stalking me or something?”

  “This is another coincidence,” I tell her, waving away the bartender after she asks if I want something. 

  Valiri snorts.  “It’s stopped being a coincidence, Strange.”  She takes another drink of her beer.  “I’m starting to think you’re up to something.”

  “Hardly.”  I scan the room for Kerrianne or the Santanas.  I can’t find them.  “Is there another fight after yours?”

  “Probably.”  She shifts in her seat and winces.  “I usually leave after I’m done.  God—have you ever been punched so hard in the stomach you felt like you gave birth?”

  My eyebrow raises.  “I don’t think I have.”

  “Well Innes pulled that off with me.  Maybe broke one of my ribs too.”  She groans as she presses her fingers to her side.  “Nope.  Just cracked it.”

  “A doctor could tell you for certain—“

  “I don’t have the cash.  I’ll be fine in a week.  Don’t need a doc to tell me that.”  She downs the rest of her drink.  “It was _so_ great to see you again, but I’m gonna collect my dough and leave.  See you, probably.”

  Before she or I can move, a man approaches her.  

  “You’re up for the next fight, Aviva.”

  Valiri frowns.  “What?  No, I do one fight a night.  That’s my deal.”

  “Not tonight.  He signed you up—double or nothing.  Against Cain.”

  Blood drains from her face.  “Cain?  _Cain?_   Is your boss trying to murder me?”

  “He’s your boss too.  Five minutes.”  The man disappears back into the crowd.  Valiri runs a hand over her hair, a stream of curses slipping past her lips. 

  “Shit fuck—I can’t take on Cain, not like this.”  Gestures to her bruised body.  “I can barely take him on when I’m my best.”

  “Then say no.”

  “I can’t.  Santana’ll have my ass—“

  She is still working for him then?  Of course.  That was my reason for watching her.  Or Ottar’s, at the least. 

  Valiri goes on muttering to herself.  She is genuinely afraid of this fight.  There is no trace of the cocky fighter from earlier.  I hate the idea the moment it enters my mind. 

  “I’ll take your place.”

  The mutters cease, wide eyes land on me.  “What?  Fuck no—it’s not allowed, plus you’ll get your ass beat.” 

  The announcer is back in the ring.  “Place your last bets, because our next match is a big one…”

  I head for the ring as they are announcing Cain.  Valiri grabs the back of my t-shirt.

  “Strange—don’t—“

  Her grip slips and I keep walking.  The announcer is about to call out Valiri’s name when I step into the circle.  They do a double-take seeing me. 

  “You’re not Aviva.”

  “I’m not.  But I am fighting.”

  “I can’t let you—“

  “You’re going to,” I tell them, then stalk past to my opponent. 

  Cain is pale, his hair nearly white and eyes pale blue.  If he is surprised not to be fighting Valiri he does not show it.  As far as I can tell from his expression, he doesn’t care who he fights as long as there is one. 

  The announcer stands between us.  “Know the rules?”

  “There aren’t any,” I reply. 

  “Fast learner.  Fight starts…now.”

  Cain lashes out before the announcer takes a step out of the ring.  I block the blow with my forearms, but take a blow to my torso.  I haven’t been in a fight like this for longer than I would like to admit. 

  I give myself enough space to watch his movements.  Leads with right, relies on his right—

  Cain’s hands grip the back of my neck.  Pull me in to knee me in the stomach and ribs.  The air escapes my lungs with one blow.  It takes most of my strength to shove him off.  Cain spits on the ground, a sneer twisting his mouth.  “Pathetic.  Why did Santana send me a beginner?” he snarls.

  I feel the corner of my lips twitch up slightly through my hard breathing.  “He didn’t.”

  The heel of my hand connects with Cain’s jaw.  His head snaps back.  Following him stumbling across the ring, I feel the familiarity and rhythm of a fight coming back. 

  Blood stains his lower lip.  He must have bit his tongue when I struck his jaw.  An angry snarl cuts through the crowd’s jeers.  Cain lunges forward once more, and this time I am ready for him.

  I block the next two punches Cain throws.  Land a few of my own, falling into old habits and rhythms.  This is something I know, whether I want to or not. 

  One hit splits my lip.  Another blurs my vision.  A knee to his crotch leaves Cain breathless and in pain.  This is my opening to finish the fight. 

  “Maddox!  _Maddox what are you_ —“

  My sister’s voice causes me to whip around toward the sound.  The distraction is used against me.  Cain drives his heel into my knee, and my leg gives out.  He knocks me onto my back, head cracks against the cement.  The edges of my vision go dark.  Brain begins to slowly falter…

  Numbers.  Shouted by the crowd.  Ten…nine…eight…

  Cain appears above me, sneering.  I have only a few seconds to make a move. 

  Six…five…

  My legs come up.  I kick him right in the center of his chest.  Two, three—five steps he stumbles.  On the sixth step he is out of the red ring entirely.  Disqualified.

  “Three…T…”  Spectators fade off when they realize Cain has lost.  My head falls back onto the floor as I close my eyes.  I may vomit if I don’t stop seeing double. 

  Hands grab my arms.  I’m helped to my feet.  I dare to open my eyes hearing the uproar that bursts from those around me.  Most bet on Cain for the win.  I cost them all. 

  The two sets of hands take me to the side.  Kerrianne stands tight-lipped.  Thomas and Zurine are on either of her sides.  She is indifferent, Thomas is grinning like a madman.

  “A helluva show, Strange—I’m pissed you went out there instead of my Vita, but I’m forgetting about it because I’m still getting the money,” he says, clapping a hand on my shoulder.  I wince.  He doesn’t notice.  “If I didn’t have my rule on hiring family, I’d pick you up for the rings in a heartbeat—“

  “You wouldn’t, Thomas,” Kerrianne bites out.  “He is not going to fight again.  He was not supposed to _in the first place._ ”

  Thomas waves a hand.  “Yes but—“

  She ignores him and stalks closer to me.  “That was reckless, Maddox.  Not something I would expect from you.  You know you could have gotten killed.”

  “You hardly know me, sister,” I return, my tone as cold as hers.  My words are slightly slurred, not as solid as they normally would be.  I am not seeing two of her.  “I know what I am capable of.”

  I don’t wait to hear whatever reply she has ready.  I find my way to the exit.  After our altercation, I rather not spend any more time with Kerrianne.  Or with Thomas.  I don’t need him reminding me of each punch I gave and received.  My body is doing that for me. 

  The cool night air stings a cut on my cheek.  The pounding in my head isn’t helped by it either.  But the sweat clinging to my skin quickly dries with the breeze cutting through my t-shirt.  I feel slightly dizzy.  Perhaps walking was not the best idea.

  Somehow I nearly miss the sound of an engine approaching.  I stop walking and turn to see a motorcycle slow up on the street beside me. 

  Valiri leans over the handlebars, her hair loose around her shoulders.  She has a sweatshirt on over her sports bra and jeans instead of shorts.  “Need a ride?  Or a drink?”

  I continue walking.  “No.”

  “C’mon Strange,” she calls after me.  “Let me pay you back.  I don’t wanna owe you in the future.”

  My steps falter.  I turn back.  “I rather not have you owe me either.”

  She smirks.  A trait in her I have hated since I met her.  “Then get on, Strange.”

  I swing my leg over the motorcycle and settle on the seat behind her.  I wrap one arm around her waist, the other locking around her as the motorcycle jerks into motion.  Valiri laughs, the sound vibrating through her back into my chest.

  “Haven’t been on one of these, have you?” she shouts over the roar of the engine. 

  “No—“  I flinch as she sharply rounds a corner and hold on tighter “—I haven’t ridden on one with someone who drives as terrible as you.”

  “Oh sweetheart, you haven’t seen me driving a car.  _That_ requires a helmet.”

  I quietly continue to regret getting on a motorcycle with her in control the rest of the drive.  After a few wrong turns I begin giving her directions, my head practically resting on her shoulder and my lips at her ear. 

  Nearly twenty minutes later we reach my apartment building.  Valiri parks the motorcycle outside the doors and I get off. 

  “You no longer owe me,” I say.  “We don’t have to see one another again—“  My vision darkens, pain lacing through my skull.  I grab onto the motorcycle to keep upright.

  The engine dies and Valiri scrambles to the ground.  “Whoa—Jesus, Strange.  You ok?”

  I nod.  The motion scatters my thoughts.  “I…I don’t—“

  Valiri catches me before I fall.  “Fuck—you’re like a ton of bricks,” she grunts, struggling to hold me up.  I can’t get my tongue to work to respond.  I can’t see straight, either.

  Together we stumble through the building and up to my apartment.  I barely register her digging in my pocket for the key and unlocking the door.  I collapse on the couch, for the first time feeling the warm trickle on the back of my neck. 

  My hand clumsily reaches back.  I focus enough to see the red staining my fingers.  Valiri curses behind me.  Drawers open in the kitchen.  Something presses to the back of my head. 

  “Shit, dude,” Valiri murmurs on my left side.  “How’d you not notice this?”

  “Don’t know…” I slur.  My eyelids are drooping shut.  Sleeping would be good right now…

  A hand slaps my cheek lightly.  My eyes snap open, and I stare at Valiri.  “If you’ve got a concussion, you can’t sleep.  Not for a couple hours.”

  “Mmh.  Fine.”  I try to turn my head.  Valiri holds it still.  “I won’t sleep.  You can leave.”

  “Nope.  I can’t leave someone with a head injury alone,” she says.  “If there’s anything I remember Jade teaching me, that’s one of them.”

  “I don’t know who that is.”

  She pats my shoulder.  “You don’t have to.  Stay put.  I’m getting you some drugs.”

  I stare up at the ceiling until she returns.  I swallow the pills she places in my hand.  I doubt they will help the headache.  I glance over at Valiri.  She sits with her elbow on the back of the couch, head resting in her hand as she stares back at me. 

  “So you’re staying?”

  “Yep.  You’re stuck with me all night.”

  I sigh.  “Fuck me.”

  Her foot nudges me.  “Not yet, you’ve got a concussion.  Maybe.”

  My glare has little affect.  “I hate you.”

  Valiri smiles.  “I hate you too.” 


	7. Venus: (Really) Happy Hour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after, waiting tables, and happy hours. Not much else to say.

  I really don’t know why I offered Strange a ride.  Or why I stayed at his place.  Again.  Probably because I do really think I owe him for fighting Cain for me.  I’d be in worse shape than after my fight with Mia.

  I woke up half an hour ago, laying half on Strange and stuck against the back of the couch.  I slipped out from under his arm and got in his shower.  After I get out, I steal a t-shirt from his dresser.  Don’t really care if he cares.  I’m not putting on sweaty clothes again. 

  Strange is still asleep when I check on him.  He’s slept…four hours?  Should wake him up…but he’s much nicer when he’s unconscious.  Well…fun time’s over I guess. 

  “Strange.”  I shake him, then poke him in the forehead.  That gets him up.  He blinks, tries to sit up.  He grimaces and grabs the back of his head.

  “Ah…god…” 

  I help him sit up carefully.  “Have a nice nap Sleeping Beauty?”

  “No.  My leg went numb.” 

  “Huh.  Weird.”  I decide not to tell him I’m the reason his leg was numb.  He probably won’t be a happy camper knowing we slept together.  “Aside from the leg, how was it?”

  Strange scowls at me.  “Fine.  I’m not dizzy or nauseated.  No other signs of a concussion.  You can leave, Valiri.”

  “But it’s only five in the morning.  I doubt you’ve got somewhere to be.  I know I don’t.”

  He stands and almost falls over.  I tense when he actually clamps a hand down on my arm to stay steady.  He frowns, looking down at my legs.  “Is that my shirt?”

  “Why would it be?”  I slide out of his grip once I think he’s not going to fall over.  “Do you have anything to eat?”

  I wander into the kitchen, opening the fridge and other cupboards.  “Uh, I don’t know,” Strange says, slowly following behind.  He sits in a chair.  All his movements are stiff and jerking.  “I haven’t checked.”

  There’s a box of corn flakes.  No milk.  I don’t know what he lives on.  “You’re a super healthy guy, you know that?” I say, digging my hand into the box of cereal.  I offer it to him but he waves me away. 

  I eat silently for a few minutes, watching Strange as he sits with a hand on his forehead.  It’s the only thing keeping his head up at this point.  I’m almost feeling pity for the guy. 

  “Sure you’re good?”

  He jumps like he forgot he wasn’t alone.  “Yes.  I haven’t been in a fight for a while I suppose.  I’m not used to it like I was.”

  I raise my eyebrows.  “You fought before?”  No wonder he wasn’t afraid to go against Cain.

  “Not like you.  Different place.  A legal one.”

  “Goodie-goodie.”

  He doesn’t say anything.  I go back to eating.  The question’s burning on my tongue by the time I ask it.

  “Why’d you do it?”

  Strange gingerly runs a hand through his hair.  “Do what?”

  “You know what.  Take that fight for me.”

  He’s quiet.  I’m about ready to start talking again when he answers.  “I don’t know.”

  “You had a reason, probably.  I don’t really think you’d be the type of person to do something without a reason.”

  “This time I’m not certain I had a reason.”

  “I think someone’s lying,” I say in singsong.  “You just can’t admit you wanted to protect me.”

  He raises an eyebrow.  “It would be more likely I didn’t want to have to stitch you back up again.”

  I crush a stray cornflake into the counter.  “How romantic.  My knight in shining armor saved me so he wouldn’t have to see me again.”

  “Nearly accurate.”  Strange gets up and goes over to a coffeemaker.  He turns it on and starts walking out of the room.  “I’m showering.  Let yourself out.” 

  I’m not leaving.  Not until I’m sure his head’s right.  Maybe it’s an excuse to stick around for a little bit longer.  Why the hell do I want to?  Strange is a fucking asshole.  He’s threatened to tell Jev my secret.  He doesn’t like me either, so why waste my time?  Maybe I love to hate him?  That’s an attractive idea…

  The coffeemaker beeps.  I go out to knock on the bathroom door, but it’s open and the shower’s off.  I peek past the curtain cutting off the bedroom.  His cat springs up from its spot on the bed and spits at me before blurring past in a ball of grey.  I don’t really pay attention to the creature because I’ve got such a great view of Strange’s back. 

  He turns hearing the cat’s hissing.  Damn—if I thought his shoulders were defined, I don’t know how to describe those abs.  Why didn’t I pay attention to this the first time I saw him shirtless?  God _damn_.

  “Stop salivating,” he snaps, going and digging in his closet. 

  “I’ll stop when you quit looking like that.”  Jeans slung low on his hips, water dripping from his hair and down his chest—he’s quickly becoming the reason I can’t keep my hands to myself.

  Strange grunts, half amused, I think.  He finds a shirt and quickly pulls it on.  I’m immediately devastated he’s denying me the right to drool over him.  “Why are you still here?”

  I shrug.  “I didn’t want you to drown.  Better safe than dead.”

  He nods.  “I can concede on that point.  You can leave though,” he says.  “I am fine, Valiri.  Truly.”

  “At least let me check your head before I go.  And put on pants.”

  Without saying anything, he sits on the edge of the bed.  He motions for me to get closer.  I do.  I slip my fingers through his curls and gently prod at the back of his head.  He grimaces, doesn’t complain.  All I feel is a decently sized bump.  I don’t really know what I’m supposed to look for.  More blood maybe?  I was just using it as an excuse to get close to him. 

  I let my hand slide down out of his hair to the nape of his neck.  He’s so close…just lean down a little and I could kiss him.  Maybe push him back on the bed and—

  “How hard would you clock me if I kissed you right now?”

  Strange smirks.  “You would not wake up for a few hours.”  He stands up expecting me to step back.  I don’t.  I’m not one to back down from a challenge.  He’ll known that pretty quick.  “Are you going to move?”

  “I’m debating if being knocked out is worth it.  Give me a sec.”  I debate with myself.  I have work later.  “Nah, not worth it today.”

  I step to the side and let him past.  He goes back to the kitchen and pours a cup of coffee.  He doesn’t offer me one.  I find my jeans thrown over the back of the couch.  The cat’s sitting on them.  Fur on her spine stands up like someone zapped her with a stun gun.  I try to tug my jeans out from under her but she spits out another hiss and swipes at me with long ass claws. 

  “Shit—“  I get my hand out of there in time.  “Yo Strange, why the fuck is your cat not declawed?” I yell behind me. 

  He comes up behind me, handing over his mug.  “I never found the need to.”  The cat _murp_ s when he picks it up.  Suddenly the demon spawn is all loving and rubbing her head against his chest.  I take the chance to grab my jeans and pull them on.  Strange sets the cat on the floor and it rubs around his leg once before skittering back into the bedroom. 

  “Does that thing like anyone but you?” I ask. 

  “Probably not.  Stop calling her a thing.”

  “Cat.”

  “Spigot.”

  “Spigot—My bad.” 

  ‘ _This shit is bananas b-a-n-a-n-a-s—_ ‘

  Jev’s ring tone starts up, muffled like it’s far away.  I lean over the back of the couch and dig in the cushions.  My phone’s between them.  I answer the call. 

  “Hey Jev, what’s up—“

  “Where are you?  You didn’t come home last night did you?”

  “No, I went out and…”  _What’s my lie what’s my lie what’s my lie?_

  “Why didn’t you come home?”  Since I didn’t come home the last time, he’s been like a strict parent—needing to know where I am at every second.  I probably should have told him I wasn’t coming home but whatever. 

  “Because I, uh…I got lucky.”  I grin at Strange who rolls his eyes at me.  “I was gonna text but y’know, I got busy.” 

  Jev sighs.  “Ok…as long as you’re fine and didn’t get mugged again.  Just text me when you’re coming home.”

  “It’ll be in an hour or so.  I promise.  Bye Jev.”  I hang up, blowing out a sigh that ruffles my hair.  “I hate lying to him.”

  “And yet you continue to lie.”

  I jab a finger in his face.  “Nuh-uh.  Don’t start that shit again.  I’ll do worse brain damage to you than Cain.”

  He pushes my hand down.  “I won’t.  I realized…it isn’t my place to.”

  “Damn right it isn’t—but what the hell changed your mind?”

  “Head injury.”  He tosses my sweatshirt to me.  “It had more of an affect than I thought.”

  I pull on my sweatshirt and find my shoes.  “Hm…then maybe I should be staying longer.  Keep an eye on you, see what else the floor knocked loose in your head.”

  “Not necessary.”  He jerks his chin towards me.  “I want my shirt back before you leave.”

  I find my socks and bra on the end table.  I snag them off the table and shove them in my pocket before heading to the door.  “If I give it back now you’d have no reason to see me again.”  I wink at him, my mouth curling up in the corner for a lopsided smirk.  “Bye Strange.  Try not to think about me too much.”

  When I look back while closing the door, I swear I see a faint smile on Strange’s face.  The animosity I’ve got for him is slowly trickling away.  Maybe the same goes for him.

  _Baby steps, Venus.  Baby steps._

 

  “What’re you smiling at?”

  I blink.  Ellie’s standing in front of the breakroom table.  She’s scowling, forehead all crinkled.  She never likes when I look happy.

  “Nothing,” I reply airily.  I’m not telling her I’m fantasizing about a guy that hates me.  “Is my break over?”

  “Sure.  I want a longer break anyways.”

  I get up from the table and go out into the restaurant.  Grabbing menus from a stand, I walk over to one of my booths.  My face breaks out into a grin.  Jev and Leone sit in the booth, joking around and laughing. 

  “Hello my favorite couple,” I say as I walk up.  “What am I getting you so I can have an excuse to keep coming over?”

  “An appetizer,” Leone says.  “Or two.  We’re heading over to the bar for happy hour.”

  “We wanted to stop by and see you first,” Jev adds in.  “See if you got off sometime soon so you could go with.”

  “What bar is it?”

  “The one in the warehouse district—Scratch’s or whatever.  Can you come?”

  Santana and his crew use that place as a hangout.  I try to avoid it.  But a night with Jev seems good…

  “I’m done at seven.  You guys wait around ‘til then?”

  Jev smiles.  “We don’t have anywhere else to be, boo.”

  I write down their order and take it to the kitchen.  I get them drinks and go around to my other tables while I wait for Leo and Jev’s food.  When it’s done I take it to them, talk for a minute, and go back to waiting all my other customers until my last hour and a half is up.  After my shift’s done and I clock out I change out of my work shirt and shrug on my jacket over my tank top.  Jev and Leone are waiting for me by the door. 

  “We leave a big enough tip for you?” Jev asks, slinging an arm over my shoulders.

  “Five for a ten buck bill?  Pretty good compared to the other dicks I had to deal with.”

  “Is that you calling us dicks?” Leone asks, doing a pretty good job sounding offended. 

  I slip in the backseat as he holds the door open for me.  “Not at all,” I grin.  “You were wonderful customers.  I’d love to see your review on Yelp.”

  “’Ok food, great service from the hot redhead’,” Jev says.  “Is that a good one to leave?”

  I laugh.  “Absolutely.  Now get driving—I want to get drunk.”

  The bar’s worn down and poorly lit.  On the inside and out.  Leone was right about the name being Scratch’s.  Probably the worst name I’ve heard for any type of bar, store, or restaurant combined.  But the shitty name suits the look of the place.  Worn out bar and tables.  The floor hasn’t been swept or mopped in what looks like weeks.  A collapsed table sits in one corner that the staff didn’t even bother to move.  To top off the atmosphere, the scent of cheap liquor fills up the air with heavy smells of cigarette smoke and probably vomit.

  It feels like home.

  Leo and I grab a table by one of the smoked-stained windows while Jev gets the first round.  I set my elbows on the table and my chin in my hands.  “So…how’s it going with you guys?” I ask.  I try to sound casual, but not that hard.

  “I’m fine.  I don’t know about Jev—“

  My foot lightly smacks his shin.  “I meant the relationship, bro.  But good to know about just you.”  I lean forward.  “Tell me the good shit, though.  Jev’s actually held it back from me.  For once.  You know he’s serious when he doesn’t spill _everything_.”

  Leone blushes.  I swell with pride and accomplishment for causing it.  I wiggle my eyebrows, and he fidgets under my gaze.  “We’re doing…great.  Believe it or not.  I know I’ve been his longest relationship…and I’m not worried about it.”

  I squirm happily in my seat.  Jev’s gonna come back any second.  Just one more question.  “Do you _like_ him?  Do you _looove_ him?”

  The red in his cheeks flames up, going down to his neck too.  “I don’t—“

  “Hey Vinny—here’s your beer.” 

  I take the bottle from Jev, smiling wider than I should be.  Before he can question it I dampen it and take a swig of beer.  It’s luke warm and shitty—I have no standards so it’s perfect.  Few more of these and some harder alcohol will do the trick.

  The bar fills up the later it gets.  Most of the crowd looks like the kind of people who come around the fighting rings.  I pray to whatever gods are out there that no one who actually goes to them shows up and notices me.  I probably made a mistake coming here, but by this time I’m getting too drunk to care.

  Jev complains about work, Leone avoids eye contact with me.  I point out attractive people around us that I’d love to go sidle up to and get them to buy me a drink.  Even my drunk head can see I’m looking at darker haired people versus the blondes.  New development in my life. 

  “Ey, I’m getting this round,” I tell the guys.  The words are a slurred pile of nothing understandable, but they seem to get what I mean.  I go up to the bar and smack my hand on the worn lacquered wood.  “Yo, you, can I get a couple shots of…”

  I trail off as the bartender turns.  My mouth kind of falls open, so I use my hand to slowly close it back up.  Strange raises an eyebrow at me with a look of mild surprise.

  “How the hell did you find this place?”  He doesn’t ask it in an aggressive way.  Kinda more like he’s stating a fact instead of a question. 

  “I didn’t.”  I stand up straighter.  My hair’s been falling out of its bun since I left work—but who gives a fuck?  “Leo and Jevvy let me tag along on their happy hour date.  Lucky for you, yeah?”

  Strange sighs.  “Thank you, Grayson,” he mutters under his breath.  He eyes me.  “How long have you been here?” 

  Code for how much I’ve had to drink—wink wink.  “Since uh…7:30?  D’you expect me to remember?  When did _you_ get here?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Uh, yeah.  If you were here the whole time then I missed like…” Too hard to do math.  “…two hours of flirting with you.”

  “I just got here, thank god.”  He glances to another customer down the bar.  A finger gets held up in my face.  I grab for it but miss.  “Hold on.” 

  I lay my head on the counter and watch him walk down to the couple trying to order drinks for the last two minutes.  Strange gets them their beers and comes back. 

  “What did you want?”

  “Well…I think my mind’s changed,” I grin in reply.  “And I don’t think it’s on the menu.”

  Strange gives me a blank look.  “Beer or tequila?”

  “Oooh—Both good choices.  But I think tequila bodyshots would make this night _so_ much more interesting for me _and_ you, eh?” 

  I’ve never had such a strong ‘are you fucking joking’ look pinned on me before.  “Beer it is.”  My shoulders slump as he places three beers on the counter.

  I don’t leave.  Instead I give him a quick onceover.  “Well, you at least don’t look worse for wear.  You feel that way too?”

  He shrugs.  “Feel no worse than usual,” he replies smoothly.  “They’re waiting for you.”  He nods to our table across the room.

  Picking up the bottles I say, “Don’t think you’ve got rid of me yet.  I’ll be back before you know it.”  Another smirk and I’m off swaying through the crowded tables. 

  Jev’s the first to see my smug expression.  “What’s got you smirking?”

  I pass him and Leo their beers and sit down.  “Strange is working.”

  Both heads swivel to the bar.  Strange helps customers at the bar, handing orders to a waitress every so often.  He’s obviously ignoring us and trying not to look over here. 

  He loves playing the uninterested asshole, doesn’t he?

  “Didn’t think he was working tonight,” Leo murmurs.  He turns back to the table.  “Was he pissed when he saw you?”

  “Just like every other time,” I say.  I track Strange’s movements behind the counter.  He reaches up for a bottle of liquor and I see a strip of skin beneath his riding up t-shirt. “I swear I’m going to break him one of these days.”  I’m determined. 

  Leone sighs.  “Why the hell are you still trying with him?  It’s not going to happen—he hates you and you pretty much hate him aside from his looks.  Not a good combination, or outcome.”

  I lean forward, my arm resting on the table.  “I’m looking for a hot one-night stand, not a marriage.  As long as the sexual chemistry I’m getting is great—I don’t care if I hate him or the other way around.  So butt out Leone.”

  He throws up his hands.  “Fine.  Whatever.  Jev, you ready to leave?”

  “Uh I’ve still got half a beer—“

  “I have beer at home.”  Leone gets up.  “Let’s go.”

  Jev glances at me.  “You coming or staying?”

  “By the looks of your boyfriend, I’m not.”  I pat his hand.  “I can get a taxi.  No worries man.”

  “Ok—but text me when you get home.  Promise.”

  I squeeze his fingers and steal his beer.  “I cross my heart, hope to die,” I tell him and take a drink.  “Now go.  Leone’s already leaving you.”

  They leave after paying the tab.  I take my time finishing Jev’s beer, watching the crowd as it slowly gets bigger, then gets smaller again after happy hour ends.  Just hardcore drinkers and alcoholics are left at this point.  Now’s a great time to go up and annoy Strange.  No one’s really at the bar except two guys, one of them face down on the counter.  Blackout drunk.  The other’s more somber, staring into his full glass of scotch. 

  Strange doesn’t look up as I sit down in front of him.  I knock on the countertop twice to get him to glace at me. 

  “Can I have my tequila now?”

  He shakes his head.  “You are already wasted.  I’m not fueling it.”

  “I’m a paying customer, and you have to serve me.  So give me a double of tequila or I get your manager.”

  Without breaking eye contact, he places a shot glass in front of me.  He fills it almost to the brim with tequila.  I down it, not flinching.  The corner of Strange’s mouth twitches. 

  “Another, barkeep,” I say, my voice a little tight.  He pours me another without a word.

  Two, three…five rounds later and I’m close to being in the same state as the guy drooling on the bar six stools over.  There’s less people in here now.  Probably almost 1:00 am.  Closing time, at least for a bar in this area.

  “Now you’re done,” Strange says.  He takes my shot glass.  I grunt in protest.  “Do you need me to call you a cab?”

  I roll my eyes, almost falling out of my seat because of it.  “Why don’t you just take me home?” I ask.  I stand up, leaning forward so my upper body’s over the bar.  My fingers clumsily tangle in the front of his t-shirt.  “My place or yours.  Doesn’t matter.  Jev’s out with Leone.  We’d have the place to ourselves…”

  “No.”  Strange tries to get free.  I tug him down so his face is right in front of mine.  He frowns.  “My boss doesn’t like her bartenders flirting with customers.”

  “Good thing you’re not doing the flirting then.”  My forehead’s touching his, nose brushing his cheek.  I can feel his breath—minty and warm.  Fingers wrap around my wrists, more cautious than aggressive. 

  I like it.  A lot.

  “You smell like liquor,” he murmurs softly.

  I tug on his shirt one time.  “Yeah, and even if I didn’t I’d still do this.  Nothing different between drunk me and not-drunk me.”

  “Venus…”  I close my eyes so I don’t have to look at his mouth.  Too tempting.  Too tempting.

  My stomach lurches a little.  “I might vom.”

  With a sigh, Strange pushes me back.  “I will call a taxi.”  He disappears into the back of and leaves me with my head on the counter.  The urge to hurl is gone.  I bury my face in my arms and groan.  Stupid…stupid…stupid…

  Ten minutes later he’s helping me stumble out to a cab.  Slouched in the back of it, I hold up my thumb and pinky like a phone to my ear.  “Call me,” I tell him.  I think I wink at him.  I might’ve just blinked.   

  Strange shakes his head.  “Goodbye, Valiri.”  He shuts the door after telling the driver my address.

  I sink farther down in the seat as the car gets moving.  The sinking feeling in my stomach’s got nothing to do with the alcohol in it.  I caught that little smile on his face as he shut the car door.  Can’t stop seeing it…those lips…feeling calloused fingers pressed into my wrists or his breath fanning across my face. 

  I cover my eyes against the streetlights we zip past.  Force myself to think about the cold pizza and coffee I’ll be having for breakfast instead of what happened back at the stupid fucking bar.


	8. Maddox: Getting a Foot in the Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More fighting rings...more punching...reminds me of canon

  I clear out the rest if the bar’s patrons after getting Valiri into the taxi.  I haven’t been able to shake the scent of tequila and vanilla from me for the last hour.  Too easily distracted by it while cleaning and restocking shelves.  Grayson most likely is going to avoid me for the next week.  I will be giving him a piece of my mind when I do see him again. 

  Just as I am getting ready to leave the door opens.  I don’t look up from counting tips.  “We’re closed.”

  Boots click against the floorboards.  Stop directly in front of me.  I raise my head and come face to face with a woman. 

  Hair dyed silver, eyes a dark green.  Blood-painted lips quirk into an unfriendly smile as she places her hands in her leather jacket’s pockets. 

  “I said we are closed,” I tell her, letting my tone take on a threatening edge. 

  “I’m not here to drink,” the woman replies.  Her voice is deeper, rougher, than I would have expected.  She skims over me with an analyzing gaze.  “I’m here for you.”

  Valiri tugging me closer to the bar enters my mind.  “Not interested.  Now leave.  I’m closing up.”

  Instead of walking away, the woman sits on the barstool in front of her.  The smile twists as her lips purse.  “I’m Dallas.  You’re Strange.”

  Immediately I go from wary to on edge.  “You know both of our names.  You must be proud.”

  She ignores my comment.  “Do you know why I’m here for you?”

  “Do you think I do?”

  The smile is amused now.  “I want you to fight for me.”

  I finally put the face with the name.  Dallas is another smaller-time boss alongside Thomas.  I knew her name, but not what she looked like.  I didn’t know what I pictured.  But I don’t believe this was it. 

  “Why?”  Last week was the only fight I have been a part of in years. 

  “I saw your fight Saturday.  Wasn’t bad—since you were fighting one of the fiercest guys in the league,” she says.  “I thought I’d give you a shot.”

  “I hope you realize Santana is my soon to be brother-in-law.  You do not want to have bad blood with him.”

  Dallas leans back.  “He and I made a deal, since he has that rule about not hiring family.  He gets twenty-five percent of the cash when you win.  I get you.  Pretty easy deal to make, seeing the potential you’ve got.”

  Under any other circumstances I would tell her to fuck off.  But I have Ottar’s voice in my head, ordering me to do whatever it takes to bring down the rings.

  I don’t say I will take her offer right away.  “How much would I be making if he is getting that percentage?”

  “Ten percent.  Plus what you should’ve gotten for the Cain fight.  It’s a better pay than fifty bucks in tips.”

  “Try sixty.”

  Dallas’ lips twitch with annoyance.  “One, two nights a week.  You bring me in money, take your earnings and come back here.  I’m only offering you this once.”

  I spend another moment scrutinizing her, pretending to think over her offer.  Normally I don’t enjoy making others impatient.  At the moment, I enjoy seeing the annoyance on Dallas’ features.

  “I will do it.”

  “Good.”  Dallas stands.  She drops a card on the bar.  “Put this number into your phone.  They’ll text you times and dates.”

  “How will they know—“

  “I already have your number.”  She turns and begins making her way to the door.  “I look forward to working with you, Strange.”

 

  I return to my apartment less than an hour later.  Immediately I go to the farthest bookshelf on the wall.  The books on the bottom shelf are moved aside.  Popping out the back board, I reach into the hidden compartment and take out the burner phone placed inside.  My gun and badge are in the compartment as well, but I leave them where they are.

  I go into the bathroom and turn on the sink and shower.  I haven’t swept for bugs in the last week.  There haven’t been any since the first few months I went undercover, but I refuse to let my guard down. 

  Ottar answers on the third call.  They sound groggy, hardly awake.  Expected.

  “What the hell…?”

  “It’s Strange.”

  “Yeah, I know.  Why’re you calling me in the middle of the damn night?  What’s that noise?”

  I rest my head against the door, keeping my voice at a low murmur.  “Shower.  I needed to update you on my progress.”

  “It couldn’t wait until morning?” they grumble.

  “You said the moment I had news to bring it to you immediately.  I am doing as you asked.”

  “You’re one of the only people who takes me literally…ok.  I’m up now, so just tell me the news, Strange.”

  “I am infiltrating the rings.”

  Rustling fills the phone’s speaker.  Ottar grunts.  The rustle of fabric stops.  “What?  How?  When did you—“

  “Tonight.  I was approached by Dallas.  I’m in.”  Three years, and this is the biggest break I have had undercover. 

  “That’s…That’s dangerous, Strange.  The risk you’re going to be taking…”

  I know the danger.  They don’t need to be telling me.  “You said to do whatever I had to.  I’m following your orders.”

  Ottar sighs.  “Stop taking me literally.  Be careful, at least.  Watch your back.”

  “I already am.”  I hang up and close my eyes.  A moment later I shut off both faucets and place the phone back in the compartment. 

  I remain sitting on the floor after replacing the backboard and books.  My eyes unfocused on the floor, the rest of me unmoving as well.  Spigot pads over, claws kneading my thigh.  I reach and scratch her head.  Her purrs fill the quiet. 

  My phone vibrates.  I check it.  The message is from the number Dallas gave me.

  _Parking garage near bridge.  Friday.  10:30 pm._

  I set the phone aside and bury my fingers in Spigot’s fur. 

  I’m going to regret this.

 

  I find the parking garage with little problem.  Someone roughly in their teens waits outside to lead me to the right location.  Lower level of the garage, backroom with a number of bags of different fighters lying around.  Curtains section off parts of the room for privacy.  Dallas sits on a makeshift bench near the door. 

  “You made it,” she says.  She is wearing the same jacket, her hair now up.  “I had a bet with myself on whether or not you would show up.”

  I set down my duffel bag.  “Which were you betting?  I would show up or not?”

  She smiles.  “I won and lost either way.  Do we need to go over rules?  You seemed to know them last time.”

  “To be safe, you might as well tell me them again.”  I unzip the bag and take out the cloth wraps for my hands. 

  “Normally it’s as much skin as possible—no shirts for guys.  Unless they’re uncomfortable with it.  Tennis shoes, high tops—no boots.  Win with a knock out or getting your opponent out of the ring.  Think you knew that already.  Other than those…no rules.  Need anything repeated?”

  “No.  When does the fight start?”

  Dallas checks the watch on her wrist.  “Give or take ten minutes,” she answers.  “I didn’t know if you wanted to go by your real name, so I gave Shay a stage name for you.”

  My brow furrows.  “What is it?”

  Dallas leaves the bench and walks away.  “You’re announced second—You’ll find out then.”  She stops in the doorway.  “Good luck, Strange.  Both of our pockets depend on you.”

  _Santana’s as well._   I pull off my t-shirt and trade my jeans for shorts after Dallas is gone.  Cheering and shouting from the other room fills my ears as I wrap the cloth strips around my knuckles.  They are still scabbed over from the fight with Cain.  Hopefully the skin won’t split again during this fight. 

  I’m not nervous, or afraid.  On edge, yes.  The outcome and injury aren’t determined.  I can’t stop either. 

  “Strange, you’re up.”

  Raising my head, I notice Valiri leaning against the doorframe.  She has a split lip, and a black eye.  She tries to smirk and winces. 

  I zip my bag and leave in on the bench.  As I walk over, I examine her bare legs and torso for injuries worse than a bruise.  I’m surprised to feel a small amount of relief when I don’t see any.  “How are you going to explain the eye to your roommate?”

  She crosses her arms and shrugs.  “Accident at work or something.  I’ve done it before.”  Her eyes slide downward.  “This is a good look for you.  Can’t wait until there’s a sheen of sweat…”

  “Your fight is over, so I’m assuming you’re leaving,” I say.  I refuse to acknowledge her comments.  It would lead to her making more…and more. 

  “Actually, I’ve got another fight after yours.  Thomas is just grubbing for money,” she mutters, looking out into the crowd.  “Voiding my contract by making me fucking fight more than I’m supposed to.”

  As she watches the fight going on, my eyes remain on her—studying her profile and the bruise on her cheek.  “You could say no to him,” I murmur. 

  Valiri snorts and glances over from the corner of her eye.  “You don’t say no to a guy like him,” she replies.  “I forgot you’re new here.”

  “I understand people like him better than you may think,” I say quietly.  No one aside from her can hear all the same. 

  This time she turns fully and faces me.  “I really don’t think you do.  This guy owns my ass.  If I lose big, _I_ pay _him_.  There isn’t a get out of jail free card with him, Strange.  I win or I die.”

  “There is a possibility of you dying while trying to win.”

  Valiri starts to respond, but stops.  “I don’t like when you actually talk to me.  It gets creepy.”

  “Then why do you keep attempting conversations with me?”

  A partial smile appears on her features.  “I like a little creepiness in my life.”

  I reach out without thinking.  My fingers curl underneath her jaw as I tilt her chin up.  She says nothing as my thumb swipes over her bottom lip.  It comes away smeared with a bit of blood.  I don’t move my hand, fingers still pressed beneath her jaw.

  “—and the new blood for the ring: Mors!”

  Jeering snaps me out of whatever daze I’m in.  Valiri clears her throat and steps away.  My hand falls to my side.  “I think that’s you, Strange,” she says softly. 

  I nod stiffly.  _Remember why you are here._   “Right.  Thank you.”  I step out of the backroom, moving toward the ring.  Valiri calls out one last time. 

  “Kick his ass, Strange.”

  I look back over my shoulder, the corner of my mouth lifting in a smirk.  _Count on it, Valiri._

  The other man in the ring is more or less my height and weight, his torso covered with older bruises and a few scars.  He snarls at me when I enter the circle.  I return the look with a bored stare.  I don’t need to have intimidation on my side.

  The announcer, I am guessing Shay, stands in the middle of us.  “Ready?” they ask.  We both nod, fists clenched and ready.  “Alrighty, then the fight starts…now.”

  Shay leaves the ring.  I move in on the other fighter before he gets a chance to throw a punch first.  He avoids my second punch, landing one of his own to my stomach.  I narrowly miss a fist to the face, his knuckles clipping my jaw instead.  I shove him back with my shoulder, let him come at me, watch his movements. 

  Favors the left leg.  Throws back shoulders when getting ready to punch.  Take out the right knee completely, and this should be an easy fight to end. 

  He comes in with a flurry of blows, not really aiming anywhere in particular.  As long as he hits skin, he does not seem to care.  Tactless. 

  I manage to get him to back off for a moment by striking the heel of my hand against his sternum.  Only a few seconds later he returns to his assault. 

  I make the mistake of turning away to protect my face.  His arm wraps around my neck before I realize my error.  My throat aches, lungs beginning to beg for air.  I have to move.  Quickly.

  I drop to the ground.  It surprises him, which allows me to use his momentum against him.  I roll him over my shoulder and onto the concrete.  Standing, I drive my heel forcefully into his weak knee.  Something cracks.  Screams echo through the parking garage.

  Nothing happens for ten seconds, until Shay calls the match.  “The winner is…Mors.”

  Most of the crowd erupts in angry shouting.  Yelling something about a rigged fight.  I don’t care.  I push my way out of the ring as Shay and another fighter help my opponent off the floor.  His screams have turned into moans of pain. 

  A hand grabs my elbow before I can make it to the backroom.  I tense, but relax slightly seeing that the hand belongs to Valiri.

  “What?”

  She jerks her head to the bar.  I let her lead me over.  She gets the woman behind the bar’s attention.  “Grace, can I get some ice over here?”

  “Sure.”  The blonde smiles dimly, eyeing me as she pours ice into a ratty towel. 

  Valiri thanks her and takes the towel.  She presses it to my jaw, and I hiss at the pressure and cold.  With a click of her tongue she chides, “Don’t be a baby.  This isn’t as bad as being punched in the face, yeah?”

  I try to take the towel from her, but she refuses to release it.  “I can hold it myself Va—“

  She covers my mouth with her free hand.  “Nuh-uh.  Don’t use my real name here, Mors.  I’m Aviva with this crowd.  Nothin’ else.”

  I scowl at her until she removes her hand.  “Fine, _Aviva_ , I can hold the towel myself,” I grit out.  I would prefer to get my things and go home.  Not stay here with a crowd of angry gamblers who bet on the wrong fighter. 

  “I know you can, but then I wouldn’t have an excuse to get this close to you, now would I?” Valiri says.  She tilts her head, like she is waiting for me to actually give her an answer.  I don’t.  She allows her gaze to drift away from my face.  “I was right about the sweat—it makes you look a thousand times hotter.  Pretty big feat in my opinion.”

  This was the last straw.  I push her hand away.  “Ok, I’m leaving—“

  Valiri grabs my hand.  “C’mon, I joking.  Kinda,” she says.  “Let me buy you a drink before my next fight.  You can leave after.”

  I pull out of her grasp.  “I don’t drink.”  If her fight starts in a few minutes, I can slip out then. 

  “Smoke?  I can steal a pack—“

  “I don’t smoke either.”

  She raises her eyebrows.  “Do you do anything?  Besides stitching up strangers and punching them, I mean.”

  “Not anything you’re interested in,” I reply. 

  “You don’t know what I like.”  She leans in.  I don’t move away.  “How’re you so sure we don’t have something in common?”

  I pay more attention to the purse of her lips than the crowd around us.  “Intuition,” I reply.  “I don’t know you, but I know well enough I have nothing in common with you.”

  “We should change that,” Valiri suggests, voice dropping to a lower pitch.  “I’d really like it if you got to know me, and if I got to know you— _all_ of you.”

  I fight to not roll my eyes at her innuendo.  “I prefer we don’t change anything between us,” I say flatly. 

  Valiri stretches up to the balls of her feet so her lips are barely touching my ear.  “Liar.  You think I can’t see the way you’ve been watching me?”

  I raise an eyebrow as she drops back to her heels.  She doesn’t move, stays close enough for me to be able to see myself reflected in her eyes.  “I’m—“

  Shay’s voice cuts through my denial.  They are announcing the next match.  Valiri’s.  Relief sends a wash of clarity through my mind—where I am, why I am here. 

  I start to slip away from her, needing to leave before she causes me to forget again.  I don’t get far once Shay makes the announcement of who Valiri is fighting. 

  “Aviva…versus Mors!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the latest part that I've gotten done. I'm 'working' on chapter 9...kind of. Wish me luck. And let me know if I should keep posting? This or other aus. Idfk man.


	9. Venus: Fuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fight between Mors and Aviva, some other fights because Venus can't help herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to post...I've been busy with other AUs and canon. Enjoy!

  Strange tenses beside me when the announcer calls out both of our names.  I’m frozen, not really processing anything.  I’m fighting…him?  What the hell is Thomas doing—

 Grace taps my shoulder.  “Aviva, you’re up with...him.”

 Do I hear jealousy in her voice?  That surprises me.  Didn’t think she liked me that much.  But at least she’s got me moving.  

 I tug on Strange’s arm to get him moving.  He doesn’t budge on the first tug, but the second gets him going.  We walk side by side to the ring, entering it together instead of on opposite sides.  The announcer looks at us, confused, but doesn’t say anything about it.  We split up and go to opposite sides of the ring.  Strange doesn’t look away from me as the announcer asks if we’re ready.  We nod tightly, almost in unison.  Then we get the signal to start.

  Strange doesn’t lunge forward like he did his last fight.  He just circles me, not making any moves.  I’m getting impatient.  I’m gonna have to make the first move, aren’t I?

  He dodges away from me when I go in to hit him.  I try again, but a second time he avoids me and my fists.  I growl under my breath.  I know he can fight.  I know he can find openings in the blink of an eye.  He’s not trying on purpose. 

  I finally get in a hit.  Right to that perfect jaw of his.  It zings my knuckles a little, but nothing I can’t handle.  What I can’t handle is him shaking it off and going back to avoiding and back-stepping.  This fight’ll be dragging out until dawn.  Thomas and Dallas aren’t going to be happy with us.

  Gritting my teeth and refusing to think much, I throw myself at him and get as close as I can. 

  “Hit me,” I hiss under the sound of the crowd.  I punch at him for emphasis.  He glares at me, but doesn’t make a move to hit me.  I strike out and actually hit his side.  “ _Hit.  Me.  You.  Bastard._ ”

  This time he hits me.  Not very hard, not like I know he can.  If I was pissed before…

  My arms get around his neck, and I pull him down so he can hear me whisper, “Hit me for real, or Thomas will do worse than what you can.  Your choice.”

  His head nods against my shoulder, then I’m flipped onto the ground.  My back aches at the impact, but I’m satisfied he’s finally fighting back.  I roll over, pushing up to my feet.  I dare Strange to come at me—keeping my fists by my sides.  He hesitates before striding across the ring and throwing another punch. 

  I duck it and get in a few jabs to his ribs.  “Don’t hesitate,” I grit out through teeth.  He responds with grabbing my wrist and twisting my arm behind my back.  I feel his breath brush the shell of my ear.

  “I can’t help it.”  I can barely hear him.  “I rather not hurt someone I don’t have to.”

  “Then I’ll give you a reason.”  I drive a heel into his shin and it allows me time to get free.  I keep hitting and hitting and hitting.  Trying to get him angry and react.  I’m not letting him throw this match for either of us.  It’s going to be a fair fight. 

  Wailing on him finally works.  Strange punches me—hard.  Like a truck hit my shoulder at full speed.  My arm tingles and goes dead.  Totally useless and limp. 

  I turn so he doesn’t have access to my weak side.  He goes for it in between blows.  I have to keep dodging and moving.  We get farther from the center of the ring and closer to the crowd.  I realize what he’s doing a second too late.

  Strange surprises me by grabbing my dominant arm and holding it to my back.  His ankle catches mine, and we both stumble out of the ring at the same time. 

  I was not expecting that.

  A whistle blows.  We’re both disqualified.  The fight’s a draw.  The crowd’s not happy about that.

  I break out of his grip and start hitting him.  My arm’s still dead and doesn’t hurt much on impact.  “You’re an idiot,” I hiss, whacking him again.  “Fucking stupid move—“

  Strange deadens my arm a second time.  I curse as the feeling I’d just got back in my fingers goes away.  “I did what was best.”

  “Best?  Sure, best is both of our asses getting handed to us instead of just one—if you’re a fucking idiot.”

  He grabs my arm and starts dragging me away before the announcer can talk to us.  No rematch tonight I’m guessing. 

  “Let go—I don’t want to be seen with you.” Thomas’ll think something’s going on, maybe that I’m going to join Dallas’ line up instead.  Break my contract and debt.  It’s dangerous now being around Strange.  Before it was pretty harmless, but that fight…

  We’re in the back room.  He lets go and grabs his bag.  I stay standing by the door, not sure whether to keep yelling at him or leave.  He makes a decision so I don’t have to. 

  Strange stalks back quickly, stopping only a second to whisper something in my ear.  He’s gone in a blink.  I’m confused, trying to process the word.  My eyes widen when I do and I turn, trying to find him in the crowd.  He’s long gone, though.  I try the name out. 

  “Maddox…”

 

  I immediately regret walking into the breakroom.  Ellie’s smuggled Lina into work when the manager wasn’t looking.  They’re making out, Lina sitting on the table.  Only last week I’d scrubbed the last time I saw these two making out in the breakroom—and that incident happened over a month ago.

  “C’mon guys,” I whine, “I eat there sometimes.  Now Lina’s ass-germs are on it.”

  Lina pulls back, sheepish and with some of Ellie’s red lipstick smeared on her lips.  It’s a better color on her than El to be honest.  I should tell Lina while Ellie’s in the room.       

  “Sorry, Venus,” Lina says at the same time Ellie barks, “Eat somewhere else.”

  Lina is too nice of a person to be dating an ass like Ellie.  I’ve said it to her before, but it doesn’t get through to her.  It’s possible one day she’ll wake up and realized I’m right.

  “El,” she sighs as she slides off the table.  “Even if she’s not sorry, I am.  And I should get going.  My moms’ are making dinner tonight—have to go to it.  Ellie, you better make it to this one or so help—“

  “I’ll meet your stupid parents,” Ellie snaps.  “Stop nagging.”

  Lina bends down and kisses Ellie.  “Thank you.  Bye Venus.”

  I catch Ellie making heart eyes at her back and smirk.  Ellie narrows her eyes and sneers.  “You’re soft for her,” I coo.  “It’s _sooo_ gooey.”

  “Bite me, Vivian,” she growls, getting up.  She’s not getting away that easy.  

  I follow her out to the kitchen.  “You’re mushy in love with her, you’re meeting her moms—“

  She spins around.  I almost run into her.  “I give zero fucks about this job.  I will punch you in the middle of the restaurant if you don’t _shut up_.”

  I love teasing her.  It’s super easy to get her pissed off.  A hobby I quickly picked up when I started working here.  “We’re not in the restaurant,” I grin.  “We’re in the kitchen.”

  “I swear to god—“  Ellie reels back to sock me.  I duck and get out of swinging distance.  She punches thin air.  The shock shows on her face.  “What the…”

  Connor—another friend and cook here—runs over and stands between us.  “Yo, let’s not do that again,” he says, mostly to Ellie.  She’s not listening, though.  The shock apparently hasn’t worn off.

  “It’s alright, Connor, I riled her up.  It’s my fault.”

  He checks Ellie again before sidling up beside me.  Another cook yells out for him to get back to work.  “Gotta go, guys.  Please don’t full out brawl in the restaurant.  My aunt’s hell when she’s mad,” he says and goes off.

  I grab some plates for one of my tables.  “Better hurry, El.  We don’t wanna serve cold food, yeah?”  I’m out the door before she can move. 

  The rest of my shift involves avoiding Ellie at every chance.  I shouldn’t have ducked away like I did.  It was an instinct to move and block her.  Thank god it was her though.  I have a seventy percent chance of her not asking me about how I could move so fast.  Even with the odds, I rack my brain for excuses.  I’m praising god when I clock out and slip out unnoticed. 

  I go home for an hour, eat and change, and head back out.  Milton’s staying in Italy for the rest of the summer.  His internship is lasting longer than he thought.  I get to keep the motorcycle until September now.  Good bye bus…for about another month and a half.

  It’s two hours until closing, so I’m the only one at the mechanic’s tonight.  We don’t get a lot of cars in late at night.  I’m fine working alone.  After hours of customers on top of customers at the restaurant, I’m ready for some time to myself.

  One car’s in the shop half-fixed.  I start working on it because there’s nothing else for me to do.  I’m practically sitting in the engine when the bell above the door tinkles. 

  “Be with you in a minute,” I call out.  I finish up with a tweak or two before climbing out from under the hood.  A hand grabs me.  I don’t get a chance to rip out of its grasp. 

  “You left before I could talk to you the other night, Aviva.”

  I get loose and spin around.  Thomas crowds me against the car.  He’s not smiling in a friendly way. 

  “I was tired,” I lie.  Talking to him right after that match with Strange would’ve been suicide.  At least now Thomas has slightly cooled off.  “Can you blame me?  My contract is two fights a week at most, not three in one night.”

  His smile gets colder.  This is the frostiest he’s been since I lost my last match, which was months ago.  I don’t want to be alone with him.  My phone is in the office.  “The only part of the contracts I tend to stick to is keeping my hooks in my fighters.  If I need you to fight, you’re going to.  I don’t care what you signed up for two years ago.”

  I know I shouldn’t, but I snap back anyways.  “I’m not a punching bag you can use to collect money.  Stick to the contract I agreed to, or I’m gone.”

  Thomas chuckles.  He cages me in with his arms.  I reach down into the for a wrench sitting on the tire.  “You know that isn’t how this works.  You’re mine until you’re too broken to be useful.”

  “I’m not yours at all,” I hiss.  “I chose to do this.”

  “No, you owed me for getting you out of serving time.”

  I push him away and shove the wrench in his face to keep him back.  “I paid you back years ago and you know it.  You’re forgetting I’m not a frightened eighteen-year-old girl anymore.  We wouldn’t be having this conversation if I was.”

  His gaze darkens.  Any amusement he had is gone.  “Remember why you came to me in the first place?  I had connections back then.  Power.  I have even more of it now.  You don’t want to make me angry, Aviva.”

  I prod him in the chest with my wrench.  He takes a step back.  “I’m half the reason you have the money and power you have now.  Long story short: stick to my contract.  Everything you have will stay as it is.”

  Thomas rips the wrench out of my hand and tosses it on the ground.  “You’re giving yourself too much credit.  Yeah, you make me money, and yeah, you give my fighters a good reputation.  But that doesn’t mean you built me up.”  He closes the space between us again.  “ _I_ built _you_.  I can tear you down just as easily.  Never forget.”

  “I couldn’t if I tried,” I snap back.  I really need to shut up before he gets any more pissed.  But I’m me, so I don’t.  “You like to remind me every damn time I don’t do exactly what you say.”

  I steel myself as his hand twitches at his side.  He hasn’t tried to hit me since the first fight I lost.  He got one slap in before I grabbed his wrist and threatened to break it.  I might’ve been afraid of him back then, but I wasn’t going to let him think he could smack me around.  I was already getting punched for him, I didn’t need to be punched by him.

  No blows land.  He holds himself back.  A finger gets jabbed in my face instead.  “Three nights a week, one fight per each—for now.  I’m not negotiating anything different,” he growls.  “And the next time you throw a match, you won’t be walking away.”

  “I didn’t have anything to do with how the match went—“

  “I have eyes, Aviva.  Next time you pull shit like that, you’ll be so far in debt with me you’ll be in my rings until every bone in your body is broken.  Your contract won’t fucking matter.  Are we clear?”

  _Take the deal Venus.  Take the deal.  Don’t be an idiot for once._ My jaw tightens.  I hate agreeing to this.  “Yeah.  We’re clear, Tommy.”

  He wants to say more.  Probably about the match with Strange.  Thank god he doesn’t.  Thomas turns away from me with one last steaming look before walking out and slamming the door—hard.  I collapse against the car the second he’s left.

  My hands shake a little as I catch my breath.  Glad he didn’t bring one of his grunts with him too.  That would’ve meant he was serious about making me fight all week long, and furious about the Strange-match.  I take one more minute and go back to the car.  Maybe I’m not as immune to Thomas’s tactics as I thought. 


	10. Maddox: Coincidences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maddox is in some hot water, and hey goes out in public with a friend so that's OOC (idk how to summarize this one)

  I expected to see her within a day or two of my first night in the rings.  It takes three.  The bar has been closed for fifteen minutes when she walks in.  I continue restocking the bar. 

  “You can’t keep coming in after closing.  My boss won’t like it.”

  Dallas throws an envelope onto the counter.  An M is scrawled in angry, jagged lines on the front of it.  Her expression rivals with the angry scrawl. 

  “I own a fourth of this bar.  Your boss only mans it.”  She shoves the envelope closer, grey-painted nails glinting menacingly.  “On purpose—you threw the Aviva fight on purpose.”

  I straighten up from replacing empty bottles.  “What evidence does your accusation have?” I ask coolly.  For all she knows we both lost our footing.  A rare occurrence within fights.

  Dallas is having none of it.  “I saw your fight with Cain.  You don’t make mistakes like that, and you’re not clumsy.”

  It’s difficult not to roll my eyes, though she isn’t wrong.  “Two fights are all you’ve seen, and you believe you already know me?”

  Her smile is sharp.  “I’ve been doing this for years.  Watching fights and fighters.  I know everything pretty much from a glance,” she says.  “You did it on purpose.”

  We watch each other for a moment.  I end up breaking the silence.  “If that was the case—hypothetically, I wouldn’t regret my choice.  No matter the issues it would have caused with you.”

  Dallas leans back, gaze still heavy on my face.  She won’t be finding anything.  “Do you know her?” she asks.

  The question catches me off guard.  The surprise doesn’t stay on my face for long.  She still notices.

  “I don’t know her,” I answer, ducking to pick up the box of empty bottles at my feet.  “I don’t know why you would think so.”

  “Let’s see…could it be that you stepped in for her with Cain?  Or could it be I saw you at the bar with her before your match that may or may not’ve been thrown on purpose?”  She flicks her hair behind her shoulder.  “I don’t know…but it all doesn’t seem coincidental.”

  I carry the box to the recycling bin in the back.  I return to the counter with Dallas’s eyes following my movements. 

  “You would be surprised how many coincidences have happened in my life.”  Dallas smiles.  “There is a chance some have more coincidences than others.”

  “That might be true, but it isn’t for you.” Dallas leaves the counter.  “Pull shit like that again, and you’ll be wishing you never met me or Aviva.”

 

  Leone throws his hands up.  “Fine—you win.  I give up asking you shit, Strange,” he sighs.  “Not like you ever answer anyways.”

  For the last half hour he has been trying to get me to talk about Valiri.  What I think of her, how much I’d hate seeing her again.  He is not being subtle. 

  “Why does it matter what my opinion of Valiri is?  Whatever I think of her won’t affect your view or relationship with her,” I say.  I go back to reading, paying half-attention to the conversation.

  “I pretty much don’t care about what you think of her—but she seems set on…y’know.”

  I glance up.  “I don’t know.  She seems set on what, exactly?”

  Leone motions silently with his hands.  I raise my eyebrow.  “Uh—seriously.  You know…she wants to…bone.”  His eyes shift around the café, seeing if anyone is appalled while overhearing him. 

  “Have sex with who?”  I care less about what strangers think of our conversation. 

  I almost smile at his exasperated expression.  “You’re fucking with me now.”

  “You finally caught on Grayson.  Good job.”

  He sighs and slumps in his chair.  A waitress brings our coffee.  After she leaves he says, “She talks about it every time I’ve been around her—asked if you were single.  And for your first name.  Of course I didn’t tell her though, knowing you.”

  I freeze, coffee cup halfway to my lips.  I whispered my name to her before slipping away on the night we fought.  Why I did—I don’t know.  The adrenaline made the decision for me—brought up a desire to have her know. 

  “And why does it matter again?  Why are you bringing her up?”

  Leone shrugs and rips open a packet of sugar.  “I don’t know…maybe you could…”  He makes gestures like he did earlier.  I roll my eyes. 

  “You are joking, right?” I ask as I set down my coffee.  “Do you want me to fuck her so she will stop talking about wanting me to?”

  His eyes grow wide.  “No—No!  I didn’t want to make it sound like that,” he says quickly.  “But you didn’t seem to hate her when she was talking to you at the bar.  It’s kind of a rare thing to see, and if you don’t hate her it’d be a chance for—“

  “My relationships are none of your business, Leone,” I snap.  “I don’t need suggestions on how and when to have them.”

  His head ducks.  A hand runs through his hair.  “Sorry, it’s just that you don’t tolerate people that quickly—but I could be wrong because I’ve only see you two together once.”  He adds on the last comment before I can interrupt.  I let him continue.  “I’m the last person you ever had that happen with…which was two years ago.”

  “I am perfectly fine with it.  Attachments aren’t something I need.”  _I don’t need them—can’t have them—more than you can know._

  “Hey, if you find someone why not take a shot?” Leone replies.  “You could find out you want an attachment.”

  He receives a call from work, saving me from having to say anything.  Leaving money and half the tip for the waitress, he tells me to think about what we talked about.  I nod, though I rather not dwell on those ideas. 

  It was coincidence she appeared at my apartment the first night, then soon finding out she worked for Santana.  Coincidence she worked for him as a fighter, and that Thomas would take me to one of the fights she was competing in.  Everything I have been able to use to further gathering information on the fighting rings has come to me through coincidence and dumb luck. 

  I can’t keep working this way.  Depending on luck to collect evidence for Ottar.  Three years of nothing until now because I had to dig myself deep into this task.  I’m tired of it, and I want this to be done.  There may be a few possible ways to do so, but they aren’t the direction I want to take myself in.  But, if I have to use a few people to put an end to this mission, so be it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one's so short. Comments, kudos, or questions on tumblr are always welcome. Thank you so much for reading like always


	11. Venus: Found Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title p much tells you what to expect so...that's my chapter summary peace out

  Jev’s boyfriend spent the night.  I had to sleep with headphones—it’s a downside to sharing a wall with him.  Having _Poker Face_ stuck in my head after listening to it in my sleep is also half of a downside. 

  He tiptoes out of his room as the coffee machine beeps.  I pour him a mug when I get mine. 

  “Thanks,” he murmurs, dumping in sugar and milk.  He likes masking the bitter taste as much as I do.  “Did we keep you up?”

  I shake my head.  “Nope, but I had Lady Gaga in my dreams.  It wasn’t the worst.”

  “What a woman,” he sighs.  I laugh.  “Oh—did I tell you what Leone invited me to?”

  “I think you were too busy with Leo himself to tell me,” I grin.  I grab a birthday cake Poptart from the counter and break into four pieces.  Crumbs go everywhere. 

  He leans in, eyes shifting around the room.  I roll my eyes at the act. 

  “Leone said he got invited to these fights tomorrow night.  Apparently they happen every weekend more or less.  You wanna go with?”

  I almost choke on my toaster pastry.  “W—What?” I cough.  “Fights?  What fights?”  _Please say cock fights please say cock fights—_

  “Have you heard any rumors about underground fights?  Like, illegal ones you bet on?”  I give him a shrug, not a real answer.  It’s enough for him.  “Well that’s what these are.  I went to one in college, but it wasn’t that legit.  This is supposed to be.  So, you in?”

  Oh, god.  There’s no way I can let him go to this.  I fight tomorrow.  He’ll kill me if he sees I’m in those rings.  But if he’s going to one of the other fights that’s tomorrow…

  “Where’s it at?  What time?”  If he goes later or earlier, I can maybe get my fight moved up or back, too.  Make him miss my fight.

  He taps his chin.  “Uh…some warehouse not that far away.  It starts around ten.”

  I give him a sad smile.  “Don’t think I can go then.  Ellie and I might be switching shifts—date with Lina.”

  My fight’s at midnight.  He won’t stay for that long.  Leo or him’ll get bored in the first hour.  I’ll be safe—probably.  If not, I can get Shay to push back my match.  All I can do is hope my luck holds out.

  “Damn, I thought it’d be something you’d enjoy.”

  “Maybe it would.  Thanks for the invite though.”  I wipe crumbs off the counter.  “Don’t bet.  You don’t know the fighting or the people.”  _I can count a dozen people who’ll skin you alive if you owe them a dime._   I couldn’t let that happen to Jev.

  He mulls over my warning.  “That’d be wise.  Thanks.  But are you sure you can’t wiggle out of it?  It’d be a lot more fun if you were there.”

  “I promised to switch.”  
  “But it’s Ellie.  Does it matter if you keep a promise to her?”

  “I keep my promises, Jev.  Even if it’s one to Ellie.”

  Leo walks in before Jev can keep trying to convince me.  His arms wrap around Jev and he kisses his cheek.  “Morning Jev,” he murmurs.  “Hey Venus.”

  I turn my cheek to him.  “Do I get a kiss too?”

  He laughs.  “Maybe if you’re good.”

  “I doubt Jev’s got a good bone in his body.  Why does he get one?”

  Jev hits my arm.   “Don’t be rude—I feed you.”

  “And I love you for that,” I smile.

  Leo and Jev bicker with me until I leave for the shop.  They pushed aside the gnawing anxiety until I walked out the door.  Now I’m back to mentally pleading with any entity in the world to give me two hours of good luck. 

 

  It’s Friday.  I’m terrified.  I haven’t been terrified of going to fights since my first couple.  And this time it’s even about the fighting.  It’s who’s going to be in the crowd.

  I slink in the back way.  No viewers can come in this way.  Better safe than sorry.

  While I’m looking behind me, I slam into a solid, warm wall.  I grab arm—maybe?—to stop from falling on my ass. 

  “I didn’t see you…”  I trail off.  Strange raises an eyebrow at me.

  I’m still pissed he threw that match.  Barely let myself think about him I’m that angry.  I’m in deep shit with Thomas.  _He better have gotten in trouble with Dallas._ I regret thinking that.

  “I am the only obstacle in the room, Valiri.  How did you not see me?”

  _I wish you’d let me knock you on your ass._   “I wasn’t looking where I was going.  That a good enough reason for you?” I sneer.  I push past and set my bag on a half-collapsed table.  “By the way, Jev and Leone are gonna be here.  They might be right now.”

  “Why should I care?”

  I turn around just as he shucks off his shirt.  Fresh and old bruises cover his torso.  I flinch imagining the pain.  Could some of those be from Dallas’s lackeys?  “Leo’s your friend.  Pretty sure he’s not going to be thrilled watching you get the shit beat out of you.”

  Strange faces me.  His ribs look worse than his back.  “Unlike you, I don’t care what my friend thinks of what I do.  I rather be honest with him when I can be.”

  _You tell me your first name—which Leo told me was a pretty significant thing—you fight for me, throw a fight because you didn’t want to hurt me.  Then you go and be a fucking asshole.  What the hell is up with this constant shifting from hot and cold?_

  “You have no right to judge me,” I snap.  I pull off my jacket and shirt.  “I have more shit to lose than you.”

  He crosses his arms.  Better not think I can’t see his eyes wandering.  For once I don’t want them to.  “How would you know?  You hardly know me.”

  I step out of my leggings and shove them in my bag.  “Then it’s intuition.  You don’t seem like the type to have a lot of attachments—and, oh, you don’t live with the guy you want to keep your secrets from.”  I stride past him.  “I have to go get my fight pushed back instead of wasting time with you—”

  Strange’s arm hooks around my waist.  I tense up and scowl.  “You’re a hypocrite,” he says quietly.  “You tell me not to judge you, and you continue to judge me.  What is fair about that?”

  He drops the arm and heads out to the main part of the warehouse.  I fall back on the bench by his bag.  A second later I take his shirt from the duffle and hide it in mine.  Let him wander around without a shirt.  

  I watch the fights from the doorway, keeping an eye out while I do.  Strange’s fight lasts less than three minutes—he KO’s the guy fast.  Maybe I should thank him for throwing our fight…no.  I’d rather tell him to choke—which I might actually do if he tries talking to me again.   

  Strange leaves the ring, and I watch his progress through the crowd.  He’s stopped by Leo.  I step behind the doorway more.  It looks like they’re arguing.  Leo’s concerned.  Strange doesn’t give a shit.  He ends up walking away in the middle of it.  Leo leaves.  Some weight lifts off my shoulders.  I could be in luck. 

  Another hour, about ten more fights, and it’s my turn.  I’m fighting a regular tonight.  Don’t know her name though. 

  The usual boos and cheers greet me when I get in the ring.  It’s always 50/50.  The other girl enters, and Shay starts the fight.

  She’s not a bad challenge.  Gets a few good hits in—gives me a black eye and splits my cheek.  But in the end, she tired herself out in the beginning.  It takes three good-aimed punches to get her to fold.  I won again.  Thomas’ll be happy.  This fight might get him to stay off my ass for a week. 

  Halfway to the bar, my arm’s yanked on.  There force spins me around, and I’m face to face with a furious Jev. 

  “This is what you’ve been doing?” he yells.  “Letting yourself get punched and kicked for fun?”

  “It’s not for fun—“

  “You’re gonna get yourself killed, Vinny!” he hisses, grabbing me by the shoulders.  I wince.  He looks over my body, curses at all the bruises and scars.  “Jesus.  What the hell are you doing to yourself?”

  I pull away.  “I do this for money.  Not fun.  The two jobs I already have don’t pay enough.  That’s why I do this.”

  Jev shakes his head.  “I could’ve helped you out.  You didn’t have to join this shit.”

  “I’m not being your pity case!  You already pay eighty percent of our rent.  I’m an adult.  I make good money this way and I’m not stopping.  It’s my choice.”

  “You wanna have a choice, Venus?  I’ll give you one,” Jev says sharply.  “If you keep this up, I’m kicking you out.  Make an adult decision with that ultimatum.”

  I try to grab him, but he slips out of my hands.  “Jev wait—“

  He turns to say, “Don’t come home tonight.  Give us both time to cool down and think, hmm?”  He waves and disappears in the crowd.

  My arm curls around my stomach.  I tangle my other hand in my hair, as if it’d ground me.  It doesn’t.  The lump still forms in my throat.  I should’ve known my luck’s shit.  Should’ve tried to tell him not to come.  This couldn’t have turned out any worse.


	12. Maddox: Disappointments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some disappointing disappointments happen. Well...depends if you're Venus or Maddox if it's disappointing...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took 3000 years to write and I am sorry that no one will remember what's happening anymore--because I don't remember either. Likes and comments are cool beans.

  Someone stole my shirt from my duffle bag during my fight.  I had to wear the extra sweatshirt I brought after it was over. 

  The argument with Leo resulted in four missed calls and twelve unanswered texts from him.  I don’t reply.  In a day or two I plan to reply if he doesn’t barge in here before then.  It gives him enough time to reflect on the situation.

  I finish taping my ribs for tonight when someone knocks on the door.  I ignore it the first time, but the second is a constant hammering.  Cursing, I throw down the roll of medical tape and go over to the door.  I yank it open.  Harsh words die on my tongue seeing Valiri at my doorstep.

  She is nowhere close to forgiving me for the fight.  There is no reason I can think of for her to show up here.  “What are you…”

  Valiri wipes her nose with a sleeve.  I see no extensive injuries, aside from a cut on her cheek.  Though her eyes are red.  From arguing with Jev I’m guessing.

  “I—I don’t have anywhere else I could go.  I—“  She swipes away fresh tears.  “This was stupid.  I shouldn’t’ve come here…”

  I grab her hand before she can leave.  I hesitate.  “Tell me what happened.  Jev find out?”  An obvious answer.

  Valiri bites her cheek and nods.   More tears well in her eyes.  “Yeah,” she whispers, “he did.”

  I pull her into the apartment.  Spigot hisses and hides in the bedroom.  Valiri sits on the couch as I return to the kitchen for my t-shirt.

  “Don’t cover up just because of me.”  The smile she attempts to give me wavers, and she buries her face in her hands.  “Shit.”

  I sit down on the coffee table across from her.  “What happened with him?” I ask softly.

  “We fought,” she answers, voice muffled.  “Gave me an ultimatum—stop fighting or move out.  Then he told me not to come home tonight and that’s how I ended up coming here.”

  Seeing the outcome, I regret ever bringing up her telling him.  That would have possibly turned out differently since it would have been a choice and not a surprise to Jev—but I doubt the chances of the outcome being different is high. 

  “You can stay the night,” I tell her.  “Take the bed again.  Shower if you want.”

  I start to stand.  She stops me from getting far.  “Why’re you being nice?  You hate me.”

  “You annoy me.  There is a difference between the two."  A very, very slight difference.

  She laughs in disbelief.  “Yeah, and I _don’t_ want to make out with you every time I see you.  We can both lie through our teeth.”  Another laugh, and she leans back against the couch. 

  I tap on the outside of her knee.  Valiri eyes me.  “I don’t lie.”  _Often.  When it is safe to.  But it seems never to you._ “Believe me.”

  “I’d love to.  Your actions just make me doubt you.”

  “How?”

  She folds her legs underneath her.  “You act like a dick, and then nice, and then a dick again.  You’ve pretty much said you don’t like me how many times?”

  “My mood toward you changes depending on if what you say or do pisses me off.  How does that reflect my actions?”

  “Well you act like a dick like I said—“

  I lean forward.  “No, that is my behavior.  Physically, what have I done to make you not trust me?”  Valiri shrugs, brows pulled together.  “I have treated your wounds multiple times and allowed you to trespass on my privacy here. Those actions have made you distrust me?”

  “I—No.  They didn’t, it’s—“  She sighs.  Eyes scrutinize me.  “Something’s off about you—that’s where my not-trusting-you-feeling comes from.”

  I stare back and tilt my head.  “What do you mean?”  Can she somehow sense I’m a cop?  Do I have a certain demeanor that gives me away?

  “I don’t know.  You’re just out of place,” she replies.  She shifts under my gaze.  “It’s like…you don’t belong in this place.  Not a bartender, not an illegal fighter.  Not stitching up random people for cash.”

  I dread the answer, but I ask the question.  “Where do I belong then?”

  “Maybe a nursing home?  You act like a grouchy old man.”  Valiri smirks.  Trying to distract from the conversation, goad me into arguing against her claims.  I don’t take the bait, but I don’t continue asking her questions.

  My hands slip behind her knees and pull her to the edge of the couch.  No protest gets past her lips.  My touch silences her as I brush a thumb under the cut on her cheek.  The blood has dried, and it doesn’t smear. 

  “I should clean this,” I murmur, fingers still grazing her face.  Her breath stutters against my face.  Can’t lean away.  Have to test her reactions more thoroughly.

  I force myself to leave.  I come back from the bathroom with a handful of alcohol wipes.  Back on the coffee table, rip open the package of one of the wipes.  I take her chin and turn her head.  Trying to be gentle while doing it, I scrub away dried blood and dab the cut. 

  “Not deep,” I say when the cut is clean.  “Some Neosporin on it daily should keep it from getting infected.”

  Valiri doesn’t lean away when I drop my hand.  “How much do I owe you for this doctorly advice?” she asks.  The silvery quality of her voice intensifies. 

  Something I have noticed: whenever she attempts to flirt, her timbre is lower, similar to what it is now.  It’s common for her to have when talking to me.  I realized not to long after meeting her.

  _She is trying to make herself feel better over the fight with Jev.  Nothing else._ I have to keep the reminder in the front of my mind.

  “Nothing—this time,” I answer.  “It wasn’t a pain in my ass—unlike the last two times.”

  “Aw, am I growing on you?”

  My lips twitch.  “Not in the slightest.”  I tip my head to the bathroom.  “Take a shower and try to sleep.  I can find something for you to wear if you—“   

  “I’ve got clothes, thanks.  Oh—reminds me…”  She lifts her bag off the floor and rummages around in it.  A t-shirt is tossed into my lap.  On closer inspection, I see it’s the one that was stolen earlier tonight.

  “You’re fucking with me.”

  “No—but I wish I was.”  She winks.  I scowl.  The grin isn’t deterred.  “But yeah.  You were pissing me off so I took your shirt.” 

  Her childish behavior should not surprise me at this point.  It’s ninety percent of the behavior I see from her.  I choose to shake my head and move away from the topic.  “Just go shower.  Listening to you is making me regret my decision.”

  Valiri stands up.  I crane my neck to scowl at her grin instead.  “Honey, nobody regrets their decisions when it comes to me—usually after I show them a good time.”  She saunters off to the bathroom.  I massage my temples. 

  Is irritation a reason for killing someone?

  Don’t have long before she returns.  I open the hidden compartment and take out the burner phone.  Turn it on, wait with an eye on the bathroom door.  Slightly off-key singing filters through. 

  The phone screen lights up.  I quickly type out a text, but hesitate on sending it.  Before, I told myself I was willing to manipulate people in order to obtain progress.  Now…I feel torn.  Valiri is already in danger.  She has more on the line than losing income.  But I don’t have another choice here.  She is my best chance to end this.  I hit send. 

  _I can make Valiri an informant._

  I shut off the phone and place it back in the compartment.  The books are set back up as Valiri walks out of the bathroom.

  She stops drying her hair with the towel in hand.  “What’re you doing on the floor?”

  “My books aren’t for display.”  I stand up, sliding one of the books off of the bottom shelf as I do.  “I read them.”

  “Yeah…it’s just weird seeing you on the floor.”

  I walk past her into the bedroom.  I take a pillow from the bed and a pair of sweatpants from the dresser.  Spigot hisses and bolts under the bed.  I don’t have to look to know Valiri is in the room.

  “You don’t have to take the couch,” she says.  She pads over and sits on the edge of the bed.  “I could take it, or we could y’know…”

  I chuckle, shaking my head.  “No, we aren’t.  Get rid of the thought.”

  She leans back on her elbows.  “Am I that resistible you can turn down sleeping with me that quick?”  It comes across as half-playful; half-defensive.

  “No, that isn’t the—“

  “So I’m attractive to you?”

_Damn it._   I kick myself for letting her trap me in this corner.  “Yes, but—“

  “Then what’s the problem?”  She slides off the bed and stands.  _Too close._   “You think I’m hot, and _I_ definitely think _you’re_ hot—why can’t we do it at least once?”

  Why am I tongue-tied?  I trip over my words and feet.  “I—We—I can’t have distractions.”  _Ottar won’t stand for a distraction—not now.  They won’t want to pull me out after three years.  All the trust I gathered wasted because of one person I’ve known less than a few months._

  Valiri raises her eyebrows.  “Really?  That’s your excuse?  You’re a bartender.  What’s there for me to distract you from?”

  Her fingers hook into my waistband.  _Think, you idiot_.  I grab her wrists and stammer out my excuse.

  “We—We work for competitors.  Santana and Dallas—they wouldn’t be pleased.”

  Her lips curl into a devious smile.  She lifts herself on the balls of her feet.  “What they don’t know won’t hurt them.” 

  I push her hands away.  My skin burns from where her fingers had made contact.  Palms scorching from holding her wrists.  “They would find out eventually—there are eyes everywhere.”  Maybe not in my apartment, but I wouldn’t put it past either Dallas or Thomas to find out about us—if anything had ever happened.

  Valiri sighs.  “You’re right.  I hate that.”  She slips out of my grasp and drops on the bed.  “I’ll still keep the offer on the table, if you decide it’s worth the risk.”

  I slip past the curtain before I can change my mind.  “Good night, Valiri.”

  “G’night, Strange.”

 

  The sun is still below the horizon when I wake up.  The first thing I do is check the bedroom.  Valiri lays sprawled out on top of the covers.  I don’t know if I expected her to be here this morning or not. 

  I quietly take a set of clothes from the dresser and change out in the living room.  I ready the coffeemaker, then check my phone.  There must be over a dozen more messages from Leone; three more voicemails.  I clear them from my notifications like the rest.

  After my fight, he cornered me.  Tried to interrogate me, demand I don’t do this.  I brushed him off and left the backway after snagging my duffle from the table.  I didn’t spend long searching for the shirt—which Valiri ended up stealing—because I knew sooner or later Leone would become impatient waiting outside.  He would have walked into the backroom and kept at the one-sided argument.  I wasn’t in the mood for it.  After seeing all of messages, I know I have a few hours at least, a day at most before he comes here.  It gives me a small window to ready myself for him.

  Valiri shouts from the other room.  She curses Spigot’s name, along with multiple other colorful names for the cat.  A moment later Valiri limps into the kitchen.

  “Your cat is a total _dick_ ,” she mutters, hopping onto a stool.  Blood beads on her foot from a few long scratches.  She uses my white dishtowel to sop up the small amount of blood.  _Great…_

  I pour two cups of coffee.  “What did she do?” I ask with disinterest.

  “She clawed my foot—while I was sleeping.  I did nothing to her.  At all.  Just sleeping.”

  “Were you using the pillow with the blue case?”

  “Yeah, so?”

  I hand her one of the mugs.  “That would be her designated pillow for sleeping.  I don’t use it, otherwise she wouldn’t be pleased with me.”

  Valiri pulls a face.  “How does your cat own your ass?”

  “If you ever had a cat, you would understand.”

  She waves a hand and stands to rummage through my fridge and cupboards.  I point to the one that contains sugar.  She finds the milk on her own, along with a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter. 

  “You have more food than the last time I was here.  Stocking up in case I stayed the night again?”  Valiri raises her eyebrows while a smile touches her lips. 

  “No, I recently went grocery shopping.” 

  She slathers a slice of bread with peanut butter.  “Hmm…if you say so,” she hums. 

  I finish my cup of coffee and go to clean up the living room, or least to put away the pillow and blanket I used last night and my pajamas.  Spigot has her claws sunk into her pillow.  Not pleased with the scent of a stranger on it or the rest of the bed.  I run a hand over her spine.  She should be used to it…eventually.  Other people are not her favorite—new ones high on the list.

  Back in living room, I find Valiri standing in front of the windows.  Her arms are wrapped around her torso, one hand clutching her phone tight.  She worries her bottom lip with her teeth. 

  “Problem?”  I shouldn’t pry, but I feel the need to ask.  Seeming to care can gain me more trust.  _Seeming to care—or do you really?_   I try to shake the thought. 

  She casts a brief glance in my direction before returning her eyes to the window.  “No voicemails from Jev.  No texts either.”  A shaky breath rattles from her lungs.  “I don’t think this’s a screw up I can fix.”

  I perch on the arm of the couch.  “From what Leone has told me, Jev hardly holds a grudge against you.  He forgives you faster than anyone.”

  Her brief laugh turns into a sigh.  “Not this time.”  She rests her head against the window pane.  “Do you know what it’s like to disappoint someone that hard?  I do.  I disappointed my mom when I dropped out of medical school, then art school…now I’m disappointing Jev.  Guess he shouldn’t’ve expected better from me, yeah?”

  The words stick to the back of my throat at first, but I force them out.  “I—I do understand.  My father had a different path decided for me.  I chose not to follow it and…I haven’t seen him once since I walked out.”

  She turns her head in my direction.  “And do you regret it?”

  I watch Spigot stalk across the room, dilated eyes never leaving Valiri.  “There are days I do, but I rarely regret it.  My situation was very different from yours, though.”  _By a long shot._   “You can’t compare what I have gone through to what you are.”

  “I’m not I—I just wanted to know I wasn’t alone in letting people down.”  The meek smile has a difficult time staying on her face.  She faces the window again as her lips fall. 

  I push off the couch and join her at the window.  My hand skims her elbow and startles her.  I jerk back.  Refuse to tear my gaze from the street below.  “Everyone has disappointed someone in some way.  You definitely aren’t alone, V.”

  I doubt anything I have said has been helpful.  I was never known for my way with words.  But in a moment like this I wish I had been.

  Valiri rakes a hand through her hair.  “Thanks.”  I feel her eyes tracing my profile.  I want to close my eyes and ignore the ache curling underneath my ribcage.  It isn’t possible anymore.  “Thanks for letting me stay here and everything.”

  “The least I could do.”  Can she hear the tremor in my voice?  God…if she does…if she asks questions…

  “It wasn’t something you had to do at all,” she replies, then pauses.  “Y’know, you might not be as big of an ass as I thought.  Or you at least have your moments.”

  The corner of my mouth lifts as I glance over.  “I agree I have my moments.  Though they are rare.”

  Valiri’s smile is more genuine.  “Probably one of the rarest things I’ve witnessed.”  She moves away from the window and picks up her bag from behind the couch.  “I better rip the band-aid off and go face Jev.  Thank you again, Maddox.”  With another smile, she slips out of the apartment. 

  I immediately collapse on the couch after she is gone.  My face is buried in my hands. 

  _I can’t do what I told Ottar I would._    


	13. Venus: Making the Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am now 50 years old, but here is the next part: Venus answers Jev's ultimatum...and the outcome is for the best--depending on who you ask.

  The second I walk out of Strange’s apartment building, my wavering good mood shatters.  Is Jev even going to let me in our apartment?  Listen to me without exploding and going on a rampage?  I’ve never made him this angry before.  I don’t know what to expect from him. 

  All I know is I can’t quit fighting.  I make more in one night than I do in a week at my other jobs.  I’m not depending on him or Jade.  Ever again.

  I strap my bag on the back of the motorcycle, but I don’t get on.  The conversation I had with Strange plays again in my memory.  I learned something about him, but it just raised more questions.  How did he disappoint his father?  What did he do?  What was he supposed to be?  Was the choice he made what got him here? 

  My fingers ghost over the elbow he touched.  Not a necessary move, but it was something comforting he tried to do.  I can still feel the shock from it.  The touch was brief, but I expect to see some kind of mark.  Of course there’s nothing there. 

  I stop stalling.  I get on the bike and start it up.  Time to go home—if it still is home. 

  The drive’s too fast.  Not enough time to prepare myself for Jev. 

  I take my bag with me.  Probably be needing it to pack other clothes and shit.  _Stop thinking that way.  You don’t know_ if  _he actually will kick you out—not yet._

  Stopping myself from knocking on the door, I almost laugh.  Waiting to be let in my apartment.  Overnight, that’s what it’s come to.  Starting to be a stranger in my own home.   

  Jev’s sitting at the counter and drinking coffee.  He raises his eyes over the rim of the mug.  “Here to tell me you’re done?”  Nothing gives away what he’s feeling right now.  No obvious anger or disappointment.  I—I think he’s done with me, resigned.  So there’s no need for him to waste energy being angry at me.

  “You know what my answer is,” I whisper.  Oh, I so so wish I could take those words back.  But everything’s out in the open now and I can’t keep lying to him.  It’d hurt our friendship more than this is.

  He sets the mug down.  “Then I want you out by next Wednesday.  Anything left here is getting thrown out or set out on the street.”

  My lungs feel like they’re collapsing.  “Can’t you just hear me out—“

  “No,” he snaps, then his voice gets thick.  “I’m not gonna be tearing my hair out, waiting for you to either come home battered or not at all.  I—I can’t keep worrying about you like this.”

  Tears build up in the corners of my eyes.  “Jev—“

  He stops me with a hand.  “Don’t, Vinny.  When you choose to quit, I’ll let you come back.  Otherwise…”

  I let him trail off and go to my room.  I rip open drawers and shove half the clothes in my duffle.  Some shirts from my closet, shoes.  A suitcase is buried in the back.  I pull it out and stuff more clothes and some other things around.  Sketchbooks, the frame with a picture of me and Jade, a small scrapbook.  The money in my nightstand goes in my purse with the charger for my phone.  Pretty much everything else I can get later.  I don’t want to spend any more time here. 

  Jev stands up when I come back in the room.  “Venus, I wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t for your own good.”       

  I scoff.  “Whatever makes you feel better.”

  Frustrated fingers tap fast on the countertop.  “It’s true.  And think about Jade—“

  “Do _not_ bring my mom into this,” I snarl.  “She doesn’t need to know.  You’re not going to tell her—“

  “Apparently I can stop you from fighting!  Jade could get through to you.”

  That makes me shut down.  I close off.  The urge to cry disappears for a second.  “You barely know my mom,” I say quietly.  “I’ll come back tonight or tomorrow for more of my stuff.”

  I get out the door without crying.  Down the stairs without tears.  They come when I’m standing on the sidewalk, knowing I can’t take a suitcase and duffle on the bike. 

  Since he’s the only one I can turn to, I call him.  Stop crying so he can’t tell right away. 

  He picks up after two and a half rings.  “Hey.  Long time no see.”

  Hearing his calming voice, I smile.  A stray tear slides down my cheek.  “Hi Ky.  I…I need your help.”

 

  “Want some?”

  Kyle offers me the bowl of popcorn.  I shake my head and burrow deeper into the blankets.  I haven’t said or eaten much in the last couple days.  Lucky for me, he hasn’t asked me to explain why I’m staying with him.  He was the only one that knew—or at least had an inkling about me fighting.  For a guy who daydreams nearly every minute I’m with him, he’s perceptive. 

  Six more days.  Six days is all I have to find an apartment and get the furniture and bigger items out of our apartment.  Not our apartment—Jev’s.  It’s not mine anymore. 

  My ribs are crushing my lungs.  I fight my way out of the blankets.  “Excuse me,” I murmur.  Anyone else would follow me straight to the bathroom.  Kyle just nods and lets me go because he knows when somebody needs space or needs comfort. 

  Ky’s a psychiatrist, but it wears him out sometimes.  He takes breaks working at a tattoo parlor or doing art that he sells on the side.  I met him at the parlor.  One of the sweetest guys I know.  The only tattoo-covered person who looks like he could never hurt a fly, to be honest.  

  I splash my face with cold water.  For once, the dark circles around my eyes aren’t from fights.  It’s always a surprise finding bruises not from someone's fists.

  And is that really how I want my life to be?  Bruises and blood from fights being my norm instead of stubbed-toes or papercuts?  What do I want?  Fighting or not sleeping or eating?  Making more than enough to get by—adrenaline rushes I love…or keeping my closest friends?

  _No, no.  Stop it.  You’ve made your choice and so has he.  We’re both not going to cave that easy when it comes to something this serious._

  “Ky, I’m taking a shower,” I shout through the door.  Can’t hear him if he replies.  I turn on the water and peel off my shirt.  In the mirror, yellow bruises and old scars scream at me to look at them.  Reminders from fights I’ve won and lost.  Demand I know they’re what I chose. 

  I rest my head against the mirror.  It fogs up from the faucet spitting hot water and my breath.  I can’t look at my reflection anymore.

  “You’ve gotta stop moping around Kyle’s, Venus,” I mutter.  “Find your own place and _move on._ Move.  On.  No more moping.” 

  My eyes open.  I feel a tiny bit better, at least better than I’ve felt in the last two days.  Let Jev think what he wants about me.  It doesn’t change the fact another fight’s coming my way, whether or not I want it to. 

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is valkyrieraisingcain, but you probably knew that. If you have questions send them there. Comment if you'd like me to continue posting, and thank you for commenting at all.


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